Five Weeks at Freddy's
by The Gentleman Xerneas
Summary: Mike Schmidt is in a rough patch at the moment, forcing him to take on an extra part time job as a security guard for a kid's restaurant on its last legs. The ad in the paper made it seem easy enough even if it's underpaid work, but little does Mike know Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, during the night, is Hell on Earth. May become M rated due to graphic violence, language and/or romance.
1. An Easy Job

**Chapter 1**

**An Easy Job**

Mike Schmidt glanced from the faded newspaper clipping in his hand to the glamorously decorated building before him, and back again. Yep, this was definitely the place.

The building itself was a relatively large pizzeria, its outer walls coated in sickly purple paint and glittery stars, with the words "Freddy's Fazbear's Pizzeria" in bright neon lights hovering above the door. Through the large glass windows and doors coated with stickers promising "Closing sale – 30% off all pizzas!", Mike could see children occasionally flit past, probably causing havoc inside. It was the sort of place children would notice immediately from the street, yelling and screaming until their parents agreed to take them. That's the scary power of clever advertising.

As he pushed through the doors he wasn't sure what assaulted his senses first, the overpowering stench of pizza, or the screams and laughter of children as they pushed past him. The whole restaurant seemed to be alive with chaos, with parents and staff the only ones maintaining order in an otherwise lawless place.

Judging by the rows and rows of tables filling the room this was the dining hall, with cash registers to the far right where exhausted-looking staff took the orders from parents. On the left-side of the room massive curtains concealed what Mike assumed to be the stage, where the restaurant's mascots probably resided. Judging by the signs, the toilets were across the room. To the right of the entrance was another set of purple curtains drawn closed, with an Out of Order sign sticking out in front. That whole part of the room seemed ominous compared to the liveliness of the rest of the restaurant, what the hell could possibly malfunction in a restaurant anyway?

"Uh, sir?"

Mike nearly jumped out of his skin as a heavy hand came down on his shoulder, forcing him to look up in alarm at the person beside him. It was a large, balding man in a blue uniform, with the words "security" emblazoned on his cap. He looked awfully tough for someone guarding somewhere like a kids restaurant, who the hell did they think was going to break into here?

"Sir, if you don't have any children accompanying you I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Company policy." He grunted, making no effort to remove his tight grip from the smaller man's shoulders.

"Uh, I'm here to apply for the night shift job. Who can I talk to?" He replied timidly. The guard took his hand away immediately, but his glare went from being stern to… relieved, almost mournful. He stood there silently for a moment, before nodding with his head towards a hallway on their right.

"Hpmh, so you're the new one. Come with me then." Without another word the guard crossed the room and went down the hallway at a brisk pace as Mike struggled to keep up, ignoring the children that whisked past them. The hallway was brightly coloured like the rest of the building, and poster after poster of poorly drawn children and animals adorned the walls. Thankfully the emptiness of the hallway was a break from the chaos of the dining hall; he had been there for only a minute, but the sheer activity of so many kids felt as though it were draining his own energy.

At the end of the hallway was a large metal door that seemed more at home in a bank than at a kid's restaurant, and beside it was a glass window that would make such a door redundant. Why the hell would anyone bother with the door when they can just get in through the window?

"Boss? The new security guard is here. He wants to see you." The guard called out to the door, before it opened with a whirr and a thunk. A youthful man with cropped, slick hair came out and greeted him with an almost devious smile. The kind of smile a door-to-door salesman has when they've roped in a customer.

"Ah, you're finally here! Welcome to Fazbear's, I'm Henry Phelps, the owner of this restaurant." He held out his hand, shaking it enthusiastically as Mike held out his in turn. "And you are?"

"I'm, uh, Michael Schmidt, but you can just call me Mike. Nice to meet you." Mike withdrew his hand prematurely from the handshake, they never really were his thing. They were a sign of trust too, and he certainly didn't trust this guy.

"Nice to meet you too, Mike! Here, step inside here for a bit." With a forceful tug Henry pulled him into the room and waved his hand around the cramped office they were in. There was barely enough room for the chair and desk within the office, not that it mattered. The desk was home to a fan and a few nondescript monitors, covered in trash and screwed up paper. Cords hung from the ceiling and the room was exceptionally dirty and drab compared to the rest of the building.

"During the day this is my office, but at night-time it's yours. I hope you like it, because it's where you'll be spending the night for the next five weeks. Now, since you've obviously seen the ad we put in the paper, I'm sure you have no problem with the salary?" The businessman sat down in the chair and folded his arms, looking up at his future employee. Even though he was looking down on him, Mike still felt as though he were the vulnerable one in this situation.

"Yeah, it's fine. I'm, uh, having some money troubles right now, so I'm willing to work for any amount of money." Mike kicked at his own feet, ashamed of having to admit he had to stoop this low.

"Mmh, mmh, I know how you feel. This restaurant's fallen on hard times too, which is why we have to pay you so little. It may seem lively out there now, but profits have been declining over the years and this place is closing down in five weeks' time because we can't afford to keep it open any longer. A damn shame." Henry went silent for a moment, as if he were reflecting on his own current plight. "Well, anyway, you're hired! You can start work from next Monday, that fine with you, son?"

"Sure, but, don't you want to do an interview or see a CV? Just to make sure I'm legit or something like that?" Mike replied, honestly shocked that he had landed the job. It was a good thing of course, but it was disturbing that his employer had made no effort to screen him at all. In response Henry scoffed and leaned forward, an almost mocking look on his face.

"Tell me, how many people do you think are willing to spend each and every week night guarding a kid's pizzeria for 4 dollars an hour?"

"N-Not many…"

"That's right, fuck all. This place has been unguarded at night for at least a week until you came along, and while few people would rob a place like this, we still need someone to keep an eye on things, yeah? Would be a shame if Freddy and his friends waltzed on out the door while no one was looking, huh? Ahahaha!" Henry burst into laughter at his own 'joke', prompting Mike to join him.

"Alright, let's get down to business." Henry's face returned to being serious as he took a tablet out from one of the desk drawers. "At 9PM the restaurant closes and the cleaner comes in at around 10. By 12 the cleaner should be gone and that's also when your shift starts. During the day up and until then the cameras record and store all footage they see so there's no need for anyone to watch them, but due to budget cuts they stop recording at 12, thus we need you to watch the restaurant for us with this." He held the tablet out to Mike, showing him the current footage. He flitted from one camera looking down on the chaotic dining hall, to the toilets where a mother waited patiently outside a stall, to the hallway Mike had entered the office from.

"At 6AM the cameras come back on and your shift ends, and at 7 the restaurant opens back up." He quickly tossed Mike a set of keys, which he struggled to catch. "Since you're an employee, you're welcome to come and go from the restaurant outside your shift, but we won't pay you extra." Henry put the tablet away again and stood up, guiding Mike into the hallway. Echoes of children having fun called out to them down the long room.

"Oh! One last thing. Thanks again to these budget cuts, we have a limited power supply during the night. If you use it all up, everything, and I mean everything, switches off until morning. You really don't want that to happen, so I suggest you manage power as resourcefully as you can. Leave the lights off, doors open, and only check the cameras every now and then. I can assure you that being stuck in the dark is unpleasant."

Damn right it is, Mike thought to himself. He remembered when he went on holiday with his parents and there was a blackout in the hotel, and he had to sit on the pitch-black stairwell as his parents went to buy candles. No way in hell would he go through something like that again. "I know a thing or two about conserving resources, so I should be fine." Mike muttered half-assuredly.

"Good! Well, that's all I need to tell you. I think there's a recorded message by one of the other guards in the office that has more info, you should check that on your first shift." As they reached the end of the hallway, he had only a glimpse of the rows of children sitting obediently on their seats looking keenly ahead before all the lights in the dining room went out, causing the entire room to descend into pitch-black darkness.

"Uwoah!" Mike cried out in fear and took a step back at the unexpected turn of events, but Henry began clapping enthusiastically.

"Oh, what good timing! It looks like your new friends want to welcome you!" He pointed to the curtains, now illuminated by a spotlight. As they drew back they revealed the restaurant's namesake and his two companions, a rabbit and a… chicken? Duck? Whatever it was it was creepy.

"Hello! It's me! Freddy Fazbear! Welcome to my restaurant!" The animatronic bears' voice boomed across the room, causing the children to burst out into cheer and applause. "Boy, we sure do have a lot of awesome boys and girls here today, don't we Bonnie!"

"We sure do!" The rabbit piped up, as he gave a friendly wave to his audience. "And to make sure you have fun at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, we have lots of fun games to play, and fun songs to sing!"

"And lots of yummy yummy food to eat!" The chicken chimed in, waving her irrelevant cupcake around.

"Ahahaha! That's right! My pizza is the yummiest pizza around, Chica!" Freddy interjected. "So while you dig into your food, we wanna sing you a fun song! But, uh-oh! Watch out for-" The bear's voice box suddenly cut off half-way through its sentence as it pointed accusingly at the other set of curtains by the entrance, the ones with the sign. It seems as though something were scripted to happen, but the curtains remained closed. Parents and children looked back and forward in confusion.

"He sure is a sneaky pirate!" Bonnie cried in agreement.

"Dammit… I thought they removed that audio clip… stupid fucking technician…" Henry muttered to himself. He seemed to be frowning, but the in dim light it seemed as though he were glaring hatefully.

In an instant Freddy's head snapped up and looked right at Mike, as though he could see him in the darkness of the hallway, a shiver running down Mike's spine as those two plastic eyes burned into his.

"We hope you enjoy yourself here… and that you stay for a long, long time." The bear's maw widened for a moment as if the snap at the startled human, before bursting out into song.

"Whaddya think, son?" Henry patted him on the back. "120 dollars to keep an eye on my friends over there for 6 hours. It's an easy job, the easiest job in the world."

Mike wasn't so sure.

* * *

**A/N: 'First horror story' and 'Lame horror story' have the same definition, I think. For me at least. Thankfully, this story is more intended to develop and explain the lore behind the mystery of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza than it is to spook my readers, which I don't think I can do. **

**FNaF doesn't have its own section yet, so I doubt this story will get much coverage unless people are actively googling for FNaF fanfiction. Considering the hype this little indie game has gotten, it's possible. **

**The first issue I encountered upon starting this story was the fact that, due to a design oversight made by the game's creator, there's no logical place for the entrance to fit! In the end I had to insert it between the backstage and Pirate's Cove as there is literally nowhere else it could go.**

**Whether or not this story scares you, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.**


	2. Not Alone

**Chapter 2**

**Not Alone**

With the sun set the restaurant looked completely different in the artificial light. Last time he had been in here it was packed full of loud, annoying children taking up every inch of space, but now that it was empty and silent it had an almost forlorn feel to it. The tables and chair which had been strewn about messily were all neatly lined up, wiped clean of the food that had previously been splattered all over them. The bustling kitchen was now closed, and the stage was once again hidden by the curtains.

The time was 11:45PM and Mike had come in early to have another look around before his first shift started, since Henry hadn't even bothered giving him a tour of the complex he was supposed to be protecting. As he came into the restaurant, he noticed a uniformed teenager solemnly mopping the floor, his long curly hair covering his green eyes as he looked carefully where he was mopping. He was, well, how could Mike put this nicely? He was such a pizzaface that he could contest with Freddy Fazbear for position as mascot… Was that too harsh?

As he approached the boy, he looked up and jumped with shock, fumbling awkwardly with his mop. For a moment it looked as though he were going to brandish it as a weapon, before hastily setting it aside.

"Oh, uh, you must be the new guard. Gave me a fright there." He muttered shyly. Judging by his reaction he wasn't used to having visitors on his shift.

"That's right, today is my first shift. I'm guessing you're the cleaner?"

"Nope! I just like to break in at night and clean here. Ehehehe…" Mike presumed it was a joke, but it was nowhere near funny enough to deserve a laugh. Upon realising he was the only one laughing at is little joke, the teen went quiet, an almost sour look on his face.

"I'm, uh, Glen. Nice to meet ya I 'spose." He held out his hand and Mike shook it, instantly regretting doing so as the pungent stench of cleaning product was transferred to him.

"I'm Mike. I hope we get to know each other well over the next five weeks." He didn't really mean that, but if there's one thing he learnt over the countless jobs he'd held in his life, it was that making friends among those you worked with was vital.

"Oh, I hope so too!" The teen perked up at the friendly gesture, his thick hair flopping back and forward as he nodded in agreement. "Are you sure you're working here for that long though? I've been here for a few months now and the security guards always quit after their first day, if they even show up at all. Mr Phelps said something about low wages or something… I dunno."

"Really? I wasn't told anything about that." Mike tilted his head in confusion at this new titbit of strange information. "I mean, I knew I was getting paid bugger all, but I didn't know about the guards quitting." That uneasy feeling he had felt the other day about taking this job intensified in his stomach. There were few unjustified reasons as to why people would consistently quit the same job like that.

"It's not really that surprising. Sure it's an easy job or so I've heard, but there are better ways to earn even more money than sit in a dark office all night. I definitely wouldn't do it."

"Unfortunately I don't have any say in the matter." Mike countered. "I need money urgently right now, and with the economy the way it is this is the only place with an available job. I just have to put up with it."

"Well, it'll be cool if you stick around for longer than a day. You'll be my first workmate!" Again a spark of excitement glinted in the boy's eyes, barely visible behind his fuzzy fringe. The poor lad couldn't have many friends if this was how acted.

"Yeah, sounds like it'll be fun." Mike glanced down at his watch, noticing the hands creeping their way towards midnight. "Whelp, I guess I better get to my office now, Henry said something about the camera feed going off at 12." Mike gave him a half friendly, half dismissive wave as he left for his new office, before a call from the teenager caused him to pause.

"Uh yeah, I'll see you tomorrow then… Just one more thing." Mike sighed inwardly before pausing in the hallway.

"Yeah?"

"Um, it's company policy not to talk about this sorta thing, but…" Glen trailed off for a moment, with a look of apprehension of his face. "Keep an eye on the cameras. I don't think anything is going to happen, but it's best to be safe." The second half of his sentence slowly faded into silence as he stood there, alone in the large room. "And stay away from the robots, too! Mr Phelps will sue you in a heartbeat if you get a single scratch on them."

"Thanks Glen, I will." Mike said with a smile as he walked down the hallway and into the dimly lit office.

The office was even more decrepit than he remembered. What he had earlier taken for markings on the walls was actually a thick coating of mould, which would explain the dank smell. The tiles and windows were also grimy with the occasional cobweb, and the cords connecting all the pre-1970s monitors were strewn haphazardly from the roof to the desk. Not to mention the sole light bulb was barely bright enough to illuminate the whole room, despite its small size.

Mike could hardly believe that this was the head office of a business; a prison cell was less dreary than this. The rest of the restaurant was pristine clean, presumably thanks to Glen, but this office looked like it hadn't been touched in years, decades even. How the hell could Phelps be fine working in an office like this every day? And furthermore, why exactly was it in this state? Glen didn't exactly look enthusiastic about his job, but there's no way he'd skimp out of cleaning his own boss' office. Perhaps he was specifically instructed not to come into this room? But even that made zero sense. He'd have to ask Glen tomorrow.

He noted the creepy looking cupcake with eyes staring intently at him from atop the desk, recalling it as the exact same one Chica held upon stage the other day. With a flick of his wrist he turned the small robot to face towards the wall, removing it from his vision. There was nothing threatening about it, but he didn't appreciate the feeling of being watched by a cupcake of all things.

But what were most obfuscating were the massive metal doors on either side of the office. He had seen them the other day, but up close they seemed even more unnecessary. If the pizzeria's financial troubles were bad enough that they couldn't afford to power the building all night, why the hell did they waste money installing power doors that looked like they were designed to survive nuclear fallout? This place was a total clusterfuck of executive decisions.

He flopped himself down into the tattered chair and let out an inward sigh, before pulling open the desk drawer and rifling through its contents. On the very top of a stack of small print papers sat the tablet, which he took out immediately. The small and sleek machine seemed totally out of place within the 80s throwback of a room he was in.

The glint of metal peeking at him from the drawer prompted him to put aside the device and investigate further. After shuffling through stacks of bills and Department of Health files, he finally pulled out an old security baton.

Or at least, what resembled one. While it would have originally been black it had been treated so roughly over the years that most of the paint had chipped off, leaving its dented form mostly useless. Deep gouges and what appeared to be scratch marks cut deeply into the metal, as though someone had been repeatedly beating something metal with it. Looking around the room, there was nothing metal and sharp enough to cause such damage. Since it was effectively worthless, Mike tossed it back into the desk without a second thought.

In an instant the lights in the hallway switched off, confining his line of sight to his office. At the sudden loss of light Mike cried out in alarm and leapt out of the chair, before hesitantly peeking down the hallway. A solitary light at the end of the hallway remained on, barely illuminating the threshold of the dining hall. The dining hall itself and as far as he could see had also descended into darkness turning the once friendly environment into one with an unnerving aura. Judging the the lack of noise, it would seem like Glen had packed up and gone home, leaving him alone in the building.

Nervously, he pressed the light button by the left door, sighing in relief as the bright light lit up the hallway. Of course having the light on changed nothing, but something deep down in his psyche sought after the comfort of its faint glow. A loud beep came the tablet, drawing his attention back to the small device. In the top right corner the symbols 12:00AM flashed repeatedly, signalling the beginning of his shift.

His instructions had been simple, but the more he thought about it, the less he knew about what to do. He had been told to stay in the office and leave if only absolutely necessary, to watch the cameras for suspicious activity, and to conserve power. That was it. He hadn't even been told what to do in the rare instance that someone actually broke in! The only weapon he had was the ruined baton, and he had no way of calling for backup since the only line of communication was some sort of answering machine. This was definitely the most unprofessional job he had ever taken, strange considering how famous Freddy Fazbear's Pizza allegedly was.

The tablet itself seemed to be custom-programmed, with no function other than viewing the security cameras. Dammit. He had taken a couple of security jobs before, and in those instances he spent most of his time jacking it off courtesy of company software. Looks like there'd be no funtime for him at Freddy's.

Now that his shift had officially started, it was time to get to work. From tonight onward he would probably spend his time playing Animal Crossing or some other time consuming game on his DS, but for tonight he would actually do his job. He didn't anticipate anything to occur, but with the way everyone else was behaving being vigilant for the first night couldn't hurt.

It seems there were 11 cameras in total, spread across the entirety of the complex. The first one he glanced at was 2B, the one just outside his office door. The camera was looking down in the corner, just inside the small area past the office doors, and 4B was the same. The only view it offered was the small area just past the office doors, containing nothing more than a few scrunched up paper balls on the ground, and a poster of the restaurant's mascot singing his cheesy songs. Unless someone decided to hide from him just past the doors, the camera was utterly pointless. Just who the hell installed these cameras?

Cameras 2A and 4A gave him a view down both hallways. Through the prior he had a clear view all the way down the hallway, with the supply closet door slightly ajar. The latter was handicapped severely due to the light bulb _right in front_ of the camera! He could only see a metre ahead before the glare of the light made it impossible to see any further.

He continued to switch from camera to camera, taking note of what he could see. The supply closet and restrooms were relatively simple If not pointless, but the dining hall and kitchen were the ones that upset him. Despite being the largest room in the building, the dining hall only had one camera which gave him limited sight of the middle of the room. He couldn't even see the entrance, how the hell would he be able to tell if someone came into the building?

The kitchen, well… it didn't even have a camera. He was greeted by black static with the words 'AUDIO ONLY' as he came to it, leaving the content of the room unviewable. This would have been fine if the front desk and the registers weren't there, which held the only valuable item in the whole restaurant. "If there's one thing they would want me to keep an eye on it would be the bloody money…" He muttered to himself. This had to be a joke. He had seen countless kids and their money-shelling parents the other day, there was no way they couldn't afford to fix a broken camera when they had that many customers per day. Just what the hell was Henry spending all the money on?

A piercing noise burst out in the room, causing Mike to leap out of his skin for the second time in the night. A few seconds of frantic breathing gave him enough time to realise it was just the answering machine. Hesitantly he took the receiver off the hook, before a recorded message began to play.

"_Hello? Oh, Hello! Uh, I wanted to record a message for you.."_

It was a message from someone who described themselves as the guard prior to him at the pizzeria. They had a pleasant accent Mike wasn't familiar with, and they sounded like the person who'd be good to chill with on the weekend. At first what they had to say was predictable, a little bit of comforting advice, and a 'legal thing' from the company that he didn't bother listening to. It was always the same crap anyway.

But then the speaker went onto stranger topics. Something about the animatronics getting quirky at night? The fuck does that mean? Never taking a bath? Free-roaming mode… The bite of '87? They then went on to talk about the animatronics stuffing him into a suit until only his eyeballs could be seen, should they find him.

Mike slammed the phone down before he had to listen any further, shakng his head in annoyance. What an asshole. His first night in and the previous employee had decided to leave a prank message for him for shits and gigs, and he had lapped up all that bullshit earlier about the guards quitting too. Was this the part where Glen ran in to film his reaction? Mike swore if that little pimple-faced brat came in... Angrily he flicked to the show stage camera, where the animatronics resided. Sure enough they were there, Bonnie, Chica… Wait, where was Freddy?!

Both Bonnie and Chica were present, staring ahead blankly with props in hand. But clear as crystal the bear that was supposed to stand between them was gone. This wasn't possible… There's no way a machine could move itself offstage like that! But the camera feed told the unwavering truth. Freddy Fazbear was unaccounted for, and nowhere to be found.

Mike's stomach coiled itself into a knot as the fact dawned upon him. He was not alone.

* * *

**A/N: I skimped out on the description since you guys already have a good image of the restaurant, and the phone conversation because you're probably heard it a thousand times.**

**This story will be a good test to see whether I can develop suspense or not. Of course I don't think it's possible to scare a reader, but it is possible to engage them within the plot with techniques like that. **

**As always you're welcome to leave comments, ideas, questions, praise and most importantly criticism. Right now I'd like some feedback on the quality of a narrative as I fear it's too monotonous. I read and approve every review so they are the best way to make your voice and ideas heard if you want some input. Just note that I probably won't give you a direct response.**


	3. Behind The Scenes

**Chapter 3**

**Behind The Scenes**

"Oh my fucking god…" Mike could barely hear his own faint gasp over the sound of blood boiling in his ears and he glared in horror at the empty space where Freddy Fazbear should be. He blinked, shook his head and rubbed his eyes but the fact remained pertinent; one of the animatronics had moved on its own will. This situation couldn't be possible, but it was.

His eyes were glued to the tiny screen before him, too terrified to move an inch. Without thinking he lashed out and slammed both buttons on either side of him, sighing with relief as the heavy clunk of the doors signalled his security, even if it were temporary. As if to chide him for his wasteful action a warning light emitted in the tablet corner; alerting him that the remaining power was decreasing at an accelerated rate. As if he cared, those doors weren't opening again until he knew just what the hell was going on.

He was afraid to move away from the stage camera lest another one move while he wasn't looking, but it was absolutely necessary that he find out where Freddy had gotten to. His finger hovered hesitantly over the dining hall camera, afraid of what could be there. The feed went grainy for a brief moment as the feed switched cameras, before he was met with the sight of… an empty hall. Just like before the tables remained clean and undisturbed with no sign of tampering.

He should have been grateful nothing was there, but he wasn't. Freddy was still missing and that was one less location where he could be. What had the guy on the phone said again? Something about free roaming mode? Mike kicked himself for not paying attention. He switched to the west hall, and then to the east hall. He wasn't surprised to see there was nothing there, he would have surely heard it coming down the hall had it decided to… right? Right. There's no way a hulking metal frame like that could silently navigate.

That still left the question of where it was. With the doors closed he wasn't in any immediate danger, but the prospect of a supernatural entity hidden in the same building as him; a far-fetched concept that he never would have considered happening in his lifetime, was chipping away years of his life as time passed.

"Where the fuck are you!?" He cried to no one in particular, madly switching from camera to camera, wincing with trepid anticipation as fresh images came up on the feed. Closet? Empty. Restroom? Empty? Kitchen? Well… he couldn't tell.

He paused for a moment as he came across a camera he hadn't seen before, one listed as Pirate's Cove. Judging by the sign, it was the location by the entrance, the one Freddy had pointed at during their routine. The light coming in from the entrance cast a pale light against the star-spangled curtains, but within the gap between them was nothing but darkness. There was something offsetting about that place and he would definitely have to check it out later, when Freddy wasn't on the loose.

Show Stage? Bonnie and Chica were still there. Dining Hall? Still empty. "Oh, what about Backst-UUOAARGGHH!"

Mike threw the tablet away in shock as Freddy's fuzzy face came up on the screen. With a crash the tablet landed face-down on the desk, scattering the sheets of paper carelessly left there. He had only glanced at it for a moment, but he had undoubtedly seen the face of Freddy Fazbear glaring back at him. He had confirmation that the robot wasn't where it was supposed to be, but what was he supposed to do now? He had a master key in his pocket, but the backstage door was right next to the entrance and there was no way he could unlock the door before the rogue animatronic descended upon him. What was to say the other two wouldn't come after him as well?

Carefully he lifted the tablet up off the desk, steeled his nerves, and flipped it back over. Freddy was still there, but unlike Mike had previously believed, the robot wasn't staring straight at the camera. Rather, its head was tilted to the side looking up at the roof mindlessly. In fact, as he peered closer into the grainy image it looked like the animatronic was immobile and slumped against the table, as if it were in pain. Had it been injured? Wait, if he zoomed in a little…

With a groan of indignant frustration he smacked his face with the palm of his hand at his own stupidity. The doors gave a subtle whoosh as he pressed their respective buttons, giving out an exasperated sigh that was, for the most part, out of relief.

It was true Freddy wasn't where he was supposed to be. Rather than on stage, his form had been thrown onto a table in the backstage and partially disassembled, pieces of his head and torso lined up beside his body. All around the room were spare parts in case of damage or failure, and various tools for constructing and deconstructing, but special care had been taken to make sure Freddy's current mechanisms would not get mixed up or lost.

There were no psychotic machines on the loose, there was no supernatural force at play, and he never was in danger. The restaurant's mascot was merely undergoing repairs, probably due to the glitch Henry had lamented over earlier. And if he checked again… Yep. On the table beside the head was a small device which could only be the voice box, judging by the missing gap in Freddy's head. He would check up close in the morning, but for now that was the conclusion he had reached.

"Damn… How could I be this stupid?!" The vexed man yelled at himself in the confines of the office, not caring what anyone would think should they him. It was bad enough that he let the other employees trick him with their half-assed pranks, but to allow his own superstitious mind to lead him such improbable conclusions? For shame. Upon noticing something as basic as a missing object he had leapt straight to the irrational assumption that spooky shenanigans were abound; rather than something obvious like, oh gee, a machine undergoing repairs? He was a disgrace to the scientific community and all rational human beings.

If he wasn't so pissed off he would laugh out loud at his own absurd behaviour. It would be foolish to give them what they wanted, but he wouldn't definitely retell this story as many times as he could to the other employees for a good laugh. Who knows, maybe one day he might kind it funny too.

As much as he wanted to put it behind him, all that sudden stress had did a number on his bladder. Two hours had passed since that little spook and he was over halfway through his shift, but there was no way he could make the rest of the night holding on and soiling himself in his boss' office was definitely something he would never live down. Disregarding the advice he had been given he left the office and set off down the east hall, in the direction of the toilets. This way he could prove to himself that he wasn't afraid.

Most buildings at night made noise no matter how little, whether it be the humming on machines on standby, the buzzing of fluorescent lights, or the occasional creak in the floor; but this building set itself aside by the complete and utter silence choking every inch of its exterior. Mike presumed that for health reasons the coolers in the kitchen would still be humming away as they kept their foodstuffs cool, but what happened when the power went off? Did the food just sit there and go off each night? His stomach churned a little as an image of hundreds of kids chowing down into pizza topped with stale cheese flashed through his mind. Surely this restaurant wasn't _that _desperate to cut power costs?

He paused in the threshold of the dining hall, resting under the comforting glow of the sole bulb above him as he scanned the large room before him. Columns of light shining through the entrance stretched across the floor, creating bands of light and dark contrasting against each other. Behind the sales counter the kitchen was enshrouded in the cloak of darkness, and even with the entrance beside it the interior of Pirate's Cove was the same. The curtains of the stage remained neat and undisturbed.

As he crossed the room Mike remained wary, shifting his watchful eye from the curtains of the stage to the open door leading to the backstage, the only sound was his footsteps gently clacking on the freshly mopped lino. It wasn't like he expected anything to leapt out at him, no, he definitely wouldn't let his own fears get the best of him for a third time this night, but despite the peaceful, hushed state of the room a niggling feeling at the back of his head told him he wasn't supposed to be here. That something about this place was off. He couldn't fully identify it, but it was almost as if he sensed being watched by an invisible force.

In what could almost be called a swift pace he did his business in the restrooms and left for his office, this time avoiding looking at the stage. Even though he couldn't see them now, the disturbing sight of the animatronic faces in the dark was still fresh in his mind from before, and it unnerved him greatly.

When he returned to his office, the rest of the night passed uneventfully, giving the impression that the earlier events of the night had never happened. He occasionally checked the cameras but the animatronics behaved themselves and the restaurant remained the same. No more spooky activity, no more missing robots and no robberies either. In fact, he almost wished _something_ would happen just to break up the continuously monotonous hours of nothing but wheeling back and forth in his office. This was just the first night, how the hell was he going to survive another week of this, let alone five? He was certain he would never have to use the doors or lights, so maybe if he was sneaky he could bring in his laptop to keep him occupied. Failing that he could film himself speeding down the hallway on his office chair…

**DING-DONG-DING**

Every muscle in Mike's body tensed simultaneously as the sound of bells rung throughout the building. "The hell was that?!" He shouted, peeking nervously down the hallway. Upon checking the tablet, the words 6:00AM flashed in the centre of the screen as the camera feed switched back to auto-mode, no longer needing observation from him. Within the hour the sun would have risen, the staff would be back and another average day would begin. His first shift at Freddy Fazbear's Pazza was over and he could finally go home from this place.

As he reached the end of the hallway the sight of a hulking shadow crossing the room made him step back in apprehension, before the lights in the dining hall switched on. A monstrously large man went from room to room switching the lights on, before his pin prick eyes set themselves upon Mike, frozen stiff with fright in the hall.

"Who the fuck are you?" Without warning he charged towards Mike and seized him by the throat, the raw strength of his brutish digits cutting off his windpipe. 'Monstrous' was definitely the right adjective Mike had chosen to describe the man. His facial features were rough and primitive; his pronounced brow hung over his miniscule eyes and jagged nose, his dry and cracked lips twisted into a snarl, and what remained of his faded blonde hair was shaven short. It would be reasonable to say that the animatronics looked more human that this caveman.

"I-Im… the g.. guard… the security guard…" It took sheer will to gasp out those few words in desperation before the man released his grip, causing the guard to fall to his knees, gratefully sucking in air. Rage broiled under the surface of his exterior and the urge to call his assailant a wanker was reaching critical levels, but he knew better than to insult the man who could break him like a twig. It wasn't pleasant, but Mike got to his feet without another peep and forgot about the incident. He would definitely complain to Henry next chance he got though, he was desperate for money but he wouldn't take this kind of beating if he could help it.

"Fuck, you're still here?" The giant paused for a moment, shocked at this mundane piece of information, before regaining his composure with a shake of his meaty head. "Whatever. I thought you were a burglar. Sorry." He snorted unapologetically before sauntering off towards Pirate Cove, leaving the smaller man wondering what the hell just happened. Completely oblivious to Mike's presence, he peered through the Pirate Cove curtains, his head swivelling on his short neck and he searched whatever lay within the interior, before romping over to the stage and repeating the procedure. For the children's sake Mike prayed that this beast would be gone by the time the business opened. He wasn't exactly… how could be put it… a child-friendly sort of guy.

The guard did however find it strange that this man was here so early. What needed to be done this early in the morning?

"Um… Excuse me? Who are you exactly?" He called out, hesitant to gain the man's attention. In response he pulled his head from the curtains and glared at the guard, seemingly provoked by the simple question.

"The fuck did you say?"

"W-Who are you? As the security guard I shoul-"

The man growled deeply before returning to his job. "Tom. The name's Tom. I'm the morning cleaner." Without another word he vanished into the backstage, causing Mike to chase after him.

"_Strange…" _Mike thought to himself. Why the hell would another cleaner come in several hours after the building had just been cleaned? He hadn't seen Tom come in with any cleaning equipment either. But if he had broken in then Mike would have known about it. This was definitely an issue that needed to be addressed with his employer, even if it did cause him unwanted attention.

In the backstage room, Tom stood over the disassembled form of Freddy with his arms crossed, looking down sternly. Just as Mike had seen on the camera feed, Freddy's slumped form was laid out upon the table, with various animatronic devices scattered about him. In the light he no longer looked menacing, in fact his rounded teeth and silly little hat almost made him look pathetic, especially in his current state.

"Why is he like this?" Mike asked as he approached the larger man.

"This shithead here had a glitch or something with this voicebox. Something about a recording in it that needed to be deleted or something. He better behave himself or else I'll tear him into more pieces than the mechanic can put back together!" With his last sentence he grabbed the bear by the throat and shook him menacingly, causing the helpless robot's eyes to rock back and forth maniacally in his head, before falling down with a thunk as the man let him go. "Worthless piece of crap, always causing trouble for us. You better behave on stage today, machine." Tom spat down on the bear, chuckling as spit ran seeped into the thick fur. The robot stared lifelessly back up at his abuser, his dislocated jaw turning what should be a smile into an infuriated scowl. If Mike looked for long enough, it almost looked like it was giving Tom a death stare.

A sudden shiver streaking its way down Mike's spine told him it was time to leave the room. He wasn't sure whether it was due to Tom's needed aggression or not, but the room had become thick and heavy, as though some thick fog had filled the room. Enough weird things had happened in one night and he wasn't going to stand around while cavemen wrangled with robot bears.

Without another word to Tom Mike left the building and turned around to look at it from the street. It looked exactly the same as it did the day he first came here, but his opinion had already changed drastically. And this was the first bloody night, he thought to himself. One of many, many to come.

As Tom came back into the hall he noted the figure of the wimpy security exiting the building. A few years ago he would have felt sorry for what was to come for that young man, he might have even given him a warning. But Tom had seen many men apply for that job, and he knew that eventually many more still would.


	4. Company Policy

**Chapter 4**

**Company Policy**

_Damn, this pizza he is good! _Mike thought to himself as he sunk his teeth into the cheese-coated slice, struggling as the thick mozzarella oozed out of his mouth and splattered all over the plate below, dragging chunks of ham and pineapple with it. If the food was this good then it was no wonder kids kept coming back here despite the restaurant's infamous history. There was definitely something processed about the food; probably packed full of sugars and additives, and the thick sauce definitely wasn't natural, but that didn't matter to the children. So long as it tasted good and looked this plastic they were happy to cram it down their throats, invariably leaving a mess. Earlier Mike had scorned the kids for causing such a sticky mess with their food, but now he could see that it was unavoidable.

Even though he had finished work mere hours ago and was frankly already sick of the place, he had decided to return to Fazbear's for lunch for two reasons. Firstly, he wanted to see the restaurant in the light of day again to dispel any remaining fear that had developed overnight, so they wouldn't recur when his next shift started in 12 hours' time. By returning in realm of daytime he had partially succeeded in doing so, but the sheer level of light, noise and activity not present in the night made it seem like a completely different place altogether.

Just like every other day kids drove in swarms across the building blatantly ignoring every rule, save for the bizarre and redundant rule of 'no pooping on the floor'. Unless they had daily incidents of kids shitting all over the lino, he couldn't comprehend why they would even need to list that on the _official _rules. In fact having that rule right by the entrance was probably worse for business than actual shit on the floor because every parent who came through the door was probably left wondering just what kind of restaurant they just came to. He was well aware that he worked for a crazy establishment, but when management was more concerned about telling their patrons where to do their business, instead of something logical like 'no weapons' then a limit had surely been crossed.

The other reason was to confront Henry about Tom's abusive behaviour in the morning, as well as a few other questions that had been concerning him regarding the job. Being manhandled every day at 6AM wasn't exactly on his bucket list and he had his fair share of bullying in high school; but regardless of what happened he had no choice but to continue working at Freddy Fazbear's, if he and his mother wanted to have food to eat and a place to live, so if Henry didn't care then he would merely have to suck it up and work with the brute.

Setting the rich pizza aside, he examined the pamphlet he took from the stand by the entrance. The front was typical of what you'd expect from a kid's restaurant, the font was large and bright with an overabundance of alliteration and other language devices, accompanied by a non-robotic, cute and friendly version of the mascots walking hand in hand. If he hadn't already seen their artificial counterparts in real life they he may have just found them cute. At the bottom was some sort of message from the Ministry of Health, deeming the restaurant as a healthy and safe place to eat. Strange, he thought to himself, he had never seen this kind of message in any other restaurant, and it was odd that they would even need to reassert the quality of the establishment like that.

The next segment of the pamphlet described the mascots alongside a small puzzle section, presumably aimed any kid that would waste their time reading at a kids place, as unlikely as that was to happen.

**Freddy Fazbear**

_Freddy Fazbear is your fuzzy fun-loving friend during your stay here at Fazbear's! Freddy is the leader of the cool band Fazbear and Friends, and boy is he an awesome singer! He loves to entertain kids and adults alike with his great singing voice and his funny jokes! His favourite object is his fancy hat and his favourite hobby is making people happy! Whether you laugh along or sing along or just have fun, make sure you're ready for Freddy when you stop by!_

**Bonnie**

_Bonnie the Bunny is a good friend of Freddy Fazbear and the guitarist for his band. Bonnie absolutely loves to gather all his friends and have big parties, the load music and bright lights make him want to jump for joy! He also loves to play the guitar and shred some great tunes! His favourite object is his stylish guitar and his favourite hobby is playing the guitar and dancing! Say hello to this sweet musician and enjoy the music!_

**Chica **

_Chica the Chicken is another one of Freddy's best pals and sings in tune with Freddy as part of his band. She's a fun-loving gal who likes to make some noise, and when she isn't singing she loves to chow on her favourite food, pizza! Her favourite object is her helpful little friend Poffy the cupcake, and her favourite hobby is eating lots of different yummy pizzas! Can you beat Chica's pizza-chowing challenge?_

Following the cheesy, poorly-written character section was a block of empty space, as though someone had hastily removed something and forgot to readjust the template properly. How did such a basic formatting mistake go unchecked? Once again Henry reasserted his talent at exclusively hiring people who had no idea what they were doing. Mike had been here for a mere two days, and already he had the impression that Henry wasn't exactly a skilled businessman. Heck, even 'competent' was a description that pushed the boundary.

A sudden drop in luminance brought Mike back to reality as spotlights focused on the showstage. Ah, it was time. Earlier he had noted that the animatronic band were scripted to perform every two hours on the dot, with varying performances depending on what time of day it was. He had taken the effort of shooing away a group of kids so he could sit at the table closest to the stage, right in front of Freddy. This would be the first time he would get to see the animatronics up close. In one piece, at least. He theorized that they were even eerier up close, which was counterproductive to his ambitions to find them bearable.

As the curtains drew back the room became hushed as the children stared keenly forward. A lone mother struggled with a crying baby at the back, her flustered face betraying her desperation to cease drawing attention to herself. Looking around the hall, Mike was shocked that so many kids were behaving at once; he had expected at least a few rebels to cause trouble as kids were so inclined to do. Within the crowd a handful of Freddy and Bonnie masked kids faced forward with their hollow eyes along with the rest. It was almost like a cult… creepy.

With all attention centred on the stage the three bandmates stepped forward, waving as enthusiastically to their audience as their servos would allow. Mike noticed how they hobbled forward on their large, flat feet. Judging by their design they were intended to help the animatronics remain balanced, but it caused them trouble in mobility.

"Hiya kids!" Freddy pulled his toy microphone up to his mouth and called out in his cheerful, almost goofy voice. "Are you ready for Freddy?"

The audience gave a resounding cheer, clapping and whistling in excitement at their ursine host. With a whir the bear threw back his head and gave a loud guffaw, his jaw snapping up and down at a jerky pace. It was probably scripted to happen either way, but it looked as though Freddy was aware of their approval.

"Well isn't that great! Me and my pals here are super super excited to sing and play songs for you, and if you're lucky I might share some jokes too!"

"Yeah! I can't wait to show you guys my sweet guitar skills!" Bonnie piped up alongside his friend, his massive ears twitching spastically as his head scanned the area. "I'm the best there is in town!"

"Hey, don't forget about me!" The female member of the band interjected. "You two may be good, but it's Chica the Chicken that rocks this place!" Her little cupcake blinked its eyes rapidly, as though it were agreeing in some form of silent morse code.

"Well then, since the gangs' all here, why don't we hit this party off with a bang?" The leader glanced left and right, seeking agreement with his companions.

"You bet!" They both cried in unison. From the speakers came a drum beat and a subtle bass line as the machines started their first song of the evening.

It wasn't too bad, he admitted to himself. Of course the lyrics were unbearably cheese, spewing tripe such as "eating pizza and having fun all day long!" and "Hey Ho! Let's go! Fun with Freddy and Friends!" but the beat was catchy enough to enjoy on its own. In fact, Mike had to consciously stop himself from tapping his foot in rhythm. As the only male adult without kids, he probably looked weird enough as it was, sitting there keenly watching the robots play. If the rest of the audience knew he was there to relinquish fear of the performing animals they would certainly look down on him more than they already did. It was bad enough that all the single mums glared at him, as if to say "why are you here?"

As he sang Freddy shuffled left and right as best as his clumsy feet would allow, outstretching his arm and moving his head in a dramatic manner, almost as if he were trying to horde all the attention for himself. On his right Bonnie sang in unison, his lighter voice supporting Freddy's baritone. As he sung his purple paw flopped limply in front of the guitar in a poor attempt to simulate strumming, but it was apparent to even the youngest child that the 'guitar' was a cheap toy without actual strings, and the rabbit was merely pretending to play the instrument in tune with the music blaring from the speakers. It may have been Mike's deprived mind, but from the angle below it looked like the rabbit was shamelessly fapping on stage. Judging by the two chuckling teens further down the table, he wasn't the only one who thought that way.

Compared to the others, Chia seemed slightly out of place. Her voice was merely an auxiliary to Freddy's and unlike Bonnie she lacked an instrument to make up for her lack of presence. If anything Mike was given the impression she had been thrown up there just to remind kids to eat more food as part of some half-assed advertising scheme. Heck, the cupcake was more noticeable than her.

The band cycled through three songs each sillier than the last, all of which related to the regurgitated themes of having fun, friends, and how you should eat MORE pizza, Bonnie even attempting an Irish jig before stumbling awkwardly back into line. Following that Bonnie and Chica retired and let Freddy take full rein with his 'joke session'. And when he meant joke session he meant unfunny knock knock jokes and puns that left the audience forcing themselves to laugh. Well, it might have just been Mike left thirsting for humour; someone his age needed offensive jokes to be sated.

"All right kids, I'm joked out of jokes and the band needs a rest, so we'll have to say goodbye for now!" The children gave a room-wide cry of dismay as Freddy waved farewell to his audience. "It's sad I know…" Mike gasped for breath as all three robots snapped their heads his way; the image of three sets of plastic eyes looking directly at him burned into his retinas. "…But we'll see you _really_ soon."

The moment seemed to last forever as they stood there silently, his eyes perpetually locked in a state of terror. He wasn't sure how long it was before the curtains closed and the warmth of the lights flicked back on, but he was glad to be rid of the sight of them. Well, this was perfect. He still refused to believe anything strange was happening at this place, but now he was even more scared of those damned animatronics. It was reasonable to assume their AI was programmed to make eye contact just for the sake of feigning sentience, but the intensity of their stare was almost…

"Innerestin' lil machines aren't they?" Mike turned to see where the sudden voice had come from. An elderly man dressed in the Fazbear uniform nodded towards the stage. "Dem robots. Innerestin, eh?"

If Mike had been asked to draw his impression of Father Time, then the man sitting before him would make the perfect subject. There was barely a trace of wispy white hair left sticking out from under his cap, and his soft, faded blue eyes were hidden deep among the many wrinkles carving their way along his sagging face. His smile would have been charming if not for the occasional missing tooth. He didn't look old enough to commit to a nursing home, but he was a stark contrast to all the other younger, exuberant staff members zipping around.

Uh… Yeah. Little scary though." Mike managed to squeak out a response to the old timer despite his unnerved state.

"Ehehheheeh! Well now, I don' disagree witcha. Kids like em tho." He had a strong southern accent, stronger than anything Mike had heard before. His strange use of the English language was more likely a carryover from his era than a modern accent, Mike thought.

The man cleared his throat and folded his arms, taking on a more serious attitude. "I don' mean to be a bother now, but people o'er the age of eighteen must be accompanied by children here at Fazbear's. I didn' see ya walk in with any kids… Company policy is all…" The man took of his cap and scratched his head in an almost apologetic manner, unwilling to be assertive.

"Oh, no, it's alright. I'm the new security guard for the graveyard shift. I just stopped by for lunch is all." He was sick of having to explain himself like this over and over again, and he couldn't understand why they had such a strict policy. It was understandable to take measures to protect the children from suspicious adults, but this was a little drastic.

The man stared back at Mike as though he were unable to process what he had just said, before leaning back apprehensively. His formerly loose jaw had tightened and his faded eyes glanced down at the table, glancing back up occasionally. "I.. Is that so, is it?" Silence filled the gap between the two, as though a bubble shielded them from the noisy children, burning the energy stored from sitting still so long.

"Well, I hope you have a nice time working for Fazbear's. God knows they pay so little. There's a lot of better jobs out there, ya sure you're happy ta work in a place like this?" What the hell was this? Was this old bastard trying to rope him out of this job?

"Yeah, I am. It's not a lot of money but I need it urgently. And I had my first shift last night and it was really easy, so I'm happy to stay here as long as I can." He reasserted himself.

"Easy…?" The man stared back in shock, eyeballing Mike as though he were speaking complete gibberish, making him feel even more uncomfortable being subjugated to this man's observations.

"Yeah, easy. At first I got a fright because I couldn't find Freddy." The man nodded enthusiastically, transfixed by his recount of the night. His tufts of eyebrows were wrought in concern as he listened. "Gave me a hell of a fright at first, but it turned out he was just undergoing repairs backstage. Nothing else really happened."

"Oh… I see." The man spoke carefully now, his accent far less pronounced than when he was cheerful. "I hope you have a nice, safe time here indeed. I'm Edwin, by the way. Edwin Caulry."

Mike reached out and shook Edwin's frail hand, afraid that it might snap off if he shook too firmly. "I'm Mike, see you around I guess. So, what do you around here?" He almost pointed out the age gap between Edwin and the other staff, but bit his tongue back just in time. Offended old people were scary.

"Well, I don' do much, just the occasional job here and there, mostly watch over the young ones to make sure they don' make a mess o' things. I'm the oldest staff member y'see, been here since this store was first built." The looked back upwards as through reminiscing over the many years he must've spent in this place. That would be a long time, Mike thought to himself. While he had never gone inside, he had passed this restaurant occasionally as a child as it hadn't changed a bit.

"Since it first opened, you say?" Mike asked innocently, pressing for answers.

"Sure have, son. I was good friends with the original owner and I helped him built this place up into the famous restaurant it is. He even left a stipulation in his will sayin' that I can't be fired from this place. Good man he was." Edwin nodded at his own words, before falling silent again. "I've… I've seen a lot of things here. Makes an old man only feel older…" A sad look crossed his unmoving eyes as he sat there.

"What kind of things are you talking about?" Mike searched his own mind for what the guy on the phone had said. They were just a prankster after all, but maybe that piece of information held some weight. "The bite of '87? Is that what you mean?" Mike implored.

"How did you..." Mike couldn't tell what emotion the old man's face was displaying, it looked like an amalgamation of fear, terror, shock and surprise all mixed into one. It was definitely a strong reaction to a harmless question. "Can't talk about that. Definitely can't talk about that. Company policy." Edwin shook his head violently in refuse, standing up as he did so. He glanced over the a guards, and then up at the cameras staring down on them, before walking away with one more comment.

"Nice talking to ya, kid. You take care of yourself, and watch those cameras. I… I can't say anything more than that." And with that he hobbled away, his old frame forcefully shunted by the kids moving around him. Mike called out to him to come back, but whether or not he couldn't hear over the cacophony of kids or just didn't want to, he didn't turn around.

That was undeniably weird, Mike thought to himself as he walked down the hallway, but it was just another question to ask Henry. He had thrown the scraps of his meal away and had one last stop before he could finally go home.

As he came to the office door, he saw Henry typing away at a laptop on the desk. It remained unchanged like before, with food and rubbish scattered about. In comparison Henry's well-groomed and well-dressed appearance clashed with the filthy room he sat in. As he saw the guard standing in the entrance he swiftly slammed the laptop closed and rested his hands upon it, looking up at the intruder.

"Oh, Mike, nice to see you're still with us. Can I help you with anything?" He called out in an amiable manner but a thin trace of annoyance wavered in his tone.

"Is it ok if I speak with you for a sec? I have a couple of questions." While his smile remained, Henry's eyes narrowed at the request. He motioned for Mike to enter the room, closing the solid door behind him.

"About… what exactly?"

"Well, it's about Tom. This morning when my shift ended, I saw him and went to investigate. When he saw me he treated me pretty roughly until I explained who I was. I didn't get hurt, but I don't appreciate being treated like that." Henry let out a sigh, but one of relief, not of disappointment.

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that. Next time I see Tom I'll tell him to treat you with some respect, guards are a valuable asset to us!" Henry tilted his head to the side and spoke sympathetically. "Tom's a bit of a lughead but he doesn't mean any harm. He probably thought you were a thief since… he's not used to seeing the guard in the morning. But anyway, with that out of the way was there anything else? I'm a little busy."

"Just one more thing. I asked the other employees a few questions Edwin and Glen, and they just refused to talk and said something like 'company policy'. What's up with that?"

"And that's what they should be saying." Henry's tone suddenly became stern, sterner than Mike had ever heard before. "Listen, Mike. Here at Fazbear's Entertainment we have a strict policy that exists for the benefit of the company, our employees, and our customers. Understood?" Mike winced at the unexpected harshness, but nodded anyway. "Good. And as part of that policy, employees are not allowed to talk about their work. At all. To anyone. If something happens during your shift, you keep it to yourself. If you learn of something, you keep it to yourself. If someone asks you about something regarding Fazbear Entertainment, you tell them it's against company policy to talk. If they're an employee? You come and tell me what they said. Talking is cause for instant dismissal and we'll make it hell for them in court. Is all that clear?" Henry leaned forward towards him, his mouth almost wrought into a malicious snarl. Mike couldn't understand why this was happening to him.

"Yeah, it is. But… why? Why do you need to do this?"

A smile came across the businessman's mouth for the briefest moment as he indicated Mike to leave his office.

"Sorry, company policy. Enjoy your second shift."

* * *

**A/N: Funny how mentioning violence and romance resulted in a massive increase in views, eh?**

**I'm aware the plot has been progressing at a slow pace so sorry for that, but the animatronics are on the move next chapter. I'm a little puzzled as to how I can mix things up a little to make the plot more engaging, as having Mike just sit there in the office and repeatedly open and close the doors makes for boring 'action'. I'll try my best.**


	5. The Hunt Begins

**Chapter 5**

**The Hunt Begins**

The silence of the building wasn't any less disturbing than before, but it was something that he would have to get used to if he wanted to remain sane at his workplace. Looking though the feed, the empty hall signalled Glen's departure. Between visiting Fazbear's for lunch, working at his other job and preparing a meal for him and his mother, Mike was left exhausted and had fallen asleep against his will, which nearly caused him to be late for his shift. He chuckled to himself at the image still fresh in his mind of Glen's startled face as he hastily burst through the door.

It was a shame that Glen had left so quickly. Mike had wanted to talk with him despite Henry's earlier warning, but Glen had fled out the door as fast as Mike had entered, frantically pointing at the time on his watch without a word. Through the thick fringe Mike saw his eyes widened in fear, as though some threat loomed closer as midnight approached. At first he hadn't understood the uncharacteristic behaviour, until he remembered the rule stating all staff bar him had to be clear of the premises by midnight. Mike could understand that to some degree, but he didn't get why failure to comply was punishable by instant dismissal. Was Henry afraid of the staff stealing when the cameras switched to manual mode? Surely he had more faith in his workers than that…

Speaking of Henry, any belief Mike had held of him being a kind and caring man had been banished as of now. No kind employer would snap at their employees over harmless questions, or passively threaten them, or enact such strict, totalitarian policies. This was all ignoring the fact that he was paying Mike well below minimum wage, too. Glen must have been lying when he said dozens of guards had come and gone in the months alone he had been working here; as harsh as the economy was right now there was no way there were that many people desperate enough for a mere extra 120 dollars.

He thought that, but here _he _was desperate enough for that 120 dollar pay check. Granted, he didn't really have a choice to be here. The guard leaned back in the chair and thought about the circumstances that had forced him into this awful situation. It was completely out of his control, but on some level he still felt responsible, as if all of this was his fault. Thinking about it… It only made him wince. If reminding himself was this painful, then there was no way he could ever let anyone know why he had taken this criminally underpaid job, not even his mother.

Although he had anticipated it, the sound of the ringing caught him off guard. Just like last night, a message had been left for him. He still felt as though the last call was a prank, but with all the weird behaviour he had witnessed from the staff, he couldn't be too sure. He would listen to what this 'former employee' had to say for tonight, but if it was another prank then he was ignoring it from now onwards. A small shiver of uncertainly ran through him as he picked up the transceiver, wondering just what the speaker would have to say this time.

"_Uhh, hello? Hello. Uh, well, if you're hearing this, you made it to night two! Uhmm, congrats!" _

Well, of course he had. It wasn't like sitting still for 6 hours was some arduous task that few men could accomplish. Was this really another stupid joke?

"_I won't talk quite as long this time, since Freddy and his friends become more active as the week progresses. Uhh, it might be a good idea to peek at those cameras while I talk, just to make sure everyone's in their proper place."_

"Oh I'm sure they're all behaving, asshole." He said to no one in particular. Like hell he was going to look at the cameras again. Chances are Glen or somebody had snuck back in and was staring right into the cameras or something immature like that. Mike the Cunning wouldn't fall prey to such cheap tactics!

The speaker then prattled on about Freddy getting active in the dark, and then covered the issue of the blind spots by the doors, which Mike had deduced on the first night. He severely doubted he would ever need to worry about them though. Unless ninjas or the bogeyman would for some reason silently stand there, there was little reason to be concerned about a patch of darkness right outside the door.

"_Also, check on the curtains in Pirate Cove from time to time. The character in there seems to be unique in that he becomes more active if the cameras remain off for long periods of time. I guess he doesn't like to be watched. I don't know."_

"Wait, what?" The phone call ended the exact same time Mike reacted to this new information. "A fourth animatronic? No, no, no that can't be right." It did though, his mind informed itself. Up until now Pirate Cove had seemed so mysterious and out of place, and Freddy had behaved as though someone lived there, until his voicebox was fixed. But, another character? Just what did they mean? The name 'Pirate Cove' gave him a pretty good idea of what kind of denizen would lurk there, but none of it made any sense. What did a pirate have to do with pizza or Freddy's band?

Going back to the tablet, his muscles tensed in anticipation as the grainy image of Pirate Cove came into view. The curtains remained slightly open but undisturbed, with the sign standing where it had always been. Nothing out of the ordinary. He hadn't expected anything different, really. Even if there was a fourth animatronic lurking behind the curtains, that didn't mean anything would happen. It would probably just be standing there motionlessly, like the other three.

Whether or not there really _was_ another animatronic, Mike didn't know. He didn't trust the phone guy in the slightest since everything he had said up until now was pure rot. But even without the phone guy Mike had been suspicious of that location. After all, there had to be _something _in there to be out of order in the first place. For now he would act under the assumption that something was going on in that place, but because of his own conclusion, not because of his little 'helper' on the phone. In the morning he would investigate for himself what was behind there, because truth be told it had been nagging his mind since he had first come here.

In his haste to get here in time he had forgotten his phone and his 3DS, a mistake he was now kicking himself for. He had decided upon a routine of checking the cameras every half hour; a process that would take about ten minutes in each instance, totalling in an hour. It was extremely unlikely that anything warranting an action from him would occur, so that was another 5 hours left to do nothing with. The boredom of last night was something he definitely did not want to repeat. Being confined to one room with nothing to do for one hour… That was the definition of torture. So much so, that he partially wished that the animatronics _did_ wander around at night. Something like that would surely make time pass at a bearable rate.

It was already half past 2 and it dawned upon Mike that he hadn't checked the cameras yet - he had already failed his routine. He had glanced at the dining hall once or twice sure, but the rest of the building had gone unmonitored for the night. He felt like calling himself a terrible guard, but he knew if he asked any other security guard they would sheepishly admit they don't watch the cameras all that often, but insist the chances of someone actually breaking in were so low that it wasn't worth it to be so vigilant.

Mike would normally agree with their sentiment; but with all the other staff acting so jumpy, and the rumours of guards constantly quitting, a lack of caution felt like it would have severe consequences. Add the fact that nobody was allowed to explain anything to him, and he was left feeling like he wasn't being told the whole story. He was determined to find out what was going on, even if it meant dragging Glen somewhere and forcing him to spit it out.

Alright, it was time to do his job. The part that mattered, at least. Returning to the tablet he flicked from camera to camera, barely looking at what was there in disinterest. The hallways were clear and tidy, and the dining hall had been purged of the mess sullying it during the day. He paused for a moment at Pirate's cove to peer through the curtains, but there was no sight of any rogue robots. It was pointless to check the toilets and closet, so that just left the stage…. Huh?

Chica and Freddy were present, in the exact same position they had been when they came out to entertain during the day. But in the spot where a certain purple rabbit should be standing was empty space. If Mike hadn't been here last night he would've panicked, but now he knew there was an explanation for this.

"So, it's your turn to be fixed, is it Bonnie?" Mike muttered to himself, a small smile forming on his face as he switched to the backstage. If he recalled correctly, Bonnie had also said something he wasn't scripted to say on the day they 'glitched' out. Naturally, Bonnie would be laid out upon the table half disassembled, just as Freddy had been last night.

Except he wasn't there. The table held nothing other than spare body parts, and the rest of the room was empty and the door was closed – no purple bunny to be seen. This couldn't be right… There was no other place Bonnie could have possibly been left afterhours. And yet as Mike went back and forth between the two cameras he was nowhere to be seen.

He would like to say he was still calm, but he wasn't. It wasn't like he was concerned for his safety like last night, but if one of the animatronics was gone he would be the first and only person to get the blame, and with the cameras offline at night he wouldn't have any evidence to prove himself innocent.

"You have to be somewhere…" Somewhere, sure. But where exactly? He had already checked half the building, and Mike hardly doubted someone would stuff Bonnie into the toilets. That only left one place he could be.

Hesitantly his finger hovered over the supply closet camera. This was the only other place in the restaurant Bonnie could be, meaning that if he wasn't here, someone had already removed him prior to Mike's shift. And If he was in the closet? He wouldn't have an explanation for it, but he would be relieved to finally pin down his location. There was a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that maybe he didn't want to see what was in there, that turning the cameras off and riding it out until morning was a more comfortable option. He bit his lip and pressed it anyway. As unnerved by this situation as he was, it was imperative that he understood just what was going on here.

His jaw locked tightly as a purple blur warped onto the small screen in his hands. Under the weak light bulb hanging from the roof the missing animatronic stood motionlessly, facing towards the open door. Even though he lacked his 'favourite' guitar, he looked exactly the same as he would on stage. This explained where he was, but why was he here? Was this just another bloody prank by the other staff? This would certainly explain why Glen had fled in such a hurry, he was afraid of getting his skinny teenage ass whooped once Mike realised these shenanigans were his doing! When he caught hold on him tomorrow…

The camera suddenly cut out, replaced by crackling static. Thinking it was just that single camera Mike switched back to the show stage, only to be met by more static. For some reason every last one of the cameras had cut out at the same time, limiting his sight to the confines of the office. No matter how much he shook or tapped the tablet that grainy image remained the same. He had no idea what was going on but it was scaring the crap out of him. What could cause something like this?

As quickly as they had cut out the cameras returned to normal, giving him sight of the untouched dining hall. Dammit, this was another issue he would have to bring up with Henry. Just to make sure things were fine he flicked through all the cameras. At most the cameras had been off for twenty seconds, but after something like that he wanted to double check.

"W-What the fuck?"

Mike's stomach churned and coiled itself into a tight, painful knot as the feed showed the image of an empty supply closet. In the brief period of time the cameras had been out the animatronic had somehow left the tiny room, but that couldn't be possible. If someone had snuck back into the building to move it then Mike would have surely seen them. The only other explanation was if the robot moved itself, but it couldn't be smart enough to navigate on its own. There was no possible way this could happen; it was impossible! Impossible! Frantically he checked each camera, desperately trying to locate the robot once more. A blur in the west hallway caught his eye, causing him to go back. He wished he hadn't.

"_T-This… isn't possible…" _The terrified guard squeaked out weakly, his lungs screaming for air. In the dim light it was hard to see, but there was no doubt that at the end of the hallway was the silhouette of a giant rabbit. To make things worse, it was getting _closer. _It was undeniable now. The animatronic was walking on its own will towards the office at a laboured pace, its face illuminated as it passed under the light. As if it knew it was being watched, its red eyes flicked upwards and looked directly at the camera, making direct eye contact with the guard observing it. Slowly a small smile came across its face, before it lunged down the hallway at a faster pace. At the same time Mike could hear the sound of heavy footsteps thumping their way down the hall in his direction.

In terror he reached out for the door button, but in his hurried panic the seat toppled over, throwing him onto the floor. With a clatter the tablet bounced off the floor and disappeared under the desk. "Oh shit fuck nononono!" He cried in horror as he pushed himself up off the floor, his mind screeching orders to his muscles to react as he flayed at the button just out of his reach. His ribs ached from where he landed and from the floor the button looked as though it were impossible to reach. The footsteps were just out the door now, if he didn't do something now it would be too late.

At the last moment his fingertip brushed against the button, signalling the door's descend. As it came down at a pace far too slow for Mike's comfort, a purple streak dashed past the window, followed by a loud bang against the door. Back on his feet, Mike closed the other door and leaned against, getting as far away from the robot outside his office as he could. There was no way that it could get through that solid metal door, even though he didn't feel like it he was safe for now. Unless…

Dread seized him again as his attention was drawn to the window right beside the door. It could easily shatter the glass and crawl through, and where would he go then? Back out into the hall where another two would be waiting to kill him? He was trapped in here with no means of escape.

As if it had read his thoughts, the terrifying image of the rabbit appeared in the window, staring directly into his eyes. There was no level of AI that could simulate the amount of sentience within those plastic, red eyes observing him, mocking him and his helplessness.

It dawned upon him that he had been a fool from the start. A fool for taking this job. A fool for ignoring his intuition. A fool for disregarding this all as a silly joke. This was no prank, the reality was he was hostage to vicious monsters that were determined to kill him and he had ignored every warning up until now. A damned fool indeed.

Was this it? Was this how he would die? Torn apart by robots and stuffed into a costume, left to rot? There wasn't enough power left to keep both doors closed until morning, eventually it would run out and he would be a sitting duck. Like it mattered anyway, that glass window would be his death. Fuck that Henry and his budget cuts. Fuck him and everyone who liked him.

"F-FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! FUUUUCK YOOOUUU!" In a fit of anger and terror Mike began to scream at the deadly machine mere metres away from him. At the back of his mind he knew it would have no effect; that this was his only way of coping with the situation. But that didn't matter. All he wanted to do was manifest his anger through words, to let this entity know just how much he despised it before it inevitably broke through the glass and dragged him away to a horrible death. Why did this have to happen to him?

The robot made no action to respond to his profanities, it merely stood there arms resting at its side, watching its prey struggle. It's unmoving eyes stared at him, relentlessly toying with him.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT WITH ME? FUCK OFF AND DIE!" He swung his balled fists around wildly in a fit of aggression, scattering paper everywhere. It was pointless, but it was in human nature to display raw emotion no matter how futile it was.

A rasping noise came from the machine, causing Mike to shut up in horror. It sounded like someone was being strangled, gasping for their last breath of air. It placed one paw against the glass and leaned forward causing the window to tremble violently. Mike shrunk back in fear, unable to break eye contact with his murderer.

"L-Leave me alone…" He forcefully squeaked out.

"_K-Kil" _A weak, pained voice came from within the machine, growing louder and loader, before it became a deafening roar. "_Ki… Kill you…"_

"No, nonono not like this!"

"_Brea… break… your… BONES!"_

* * *

**A/N: I'd like to say thanks to all my reviewers. Such a positive response is what makes a writer like me strive to work harder, and it's nice to see so many readers being immersed in the plot. So, thank you! **

**Normally I'm not a fan of directly responding to reviews in the Author's Note as it tends to make them unnecessarily long, made even worse by the fact that this AN probably broke your immersion right after a cliffhanger, but since this question is likely to pop up again in the future I'll address it now.**

**While romance will become a large factor of the plot later on and they'll be lots of [spoilers] moments later on, this is not a shipping fic. To clarify, a shipping fic tends to be a story that revolves around the romance or potential for romance and as such the romance is the major appeal to readers.**

**This story is the opposite; the romance is the result of the plot development, not the driving force for it. While those who came here for romance **_**will**_** get their fill, this story is intended for people who want a well-developed, original story with romance to spice things up. So please don't expect this to be another soppy, love-at-first-sight, one-cheesy-moment-after-another fic that you can find a trillion of on this site.**

**I'd like to say more but I can't due to spoilers. Sorry about that.**


	6. Foxy

**Chapter 6**

**Foxy**

Mike Schmidt continued to cower there, face shielded by arms, waiting for it all to end. With his eyes clenched shut he couldn't see a thing but that was exactly the point. It was over for him, all he could do now was wait until the monster broke through the glass and got him, and then hope for it all to end as quickly as possible, for the dark comfort of death to save him from this horrific demise. It occurred to him that he had been in this same situation countless times before in games, and in nightmares. But as the monster got to him he would always wake up, or the game over screen would appear and save him from the outcome. This time, however, he would see this scenario play out right until the end.

It felt as though time stretched onward forever, but he couldn't have remained there for longer than several minutes. Silence. His muscles began to ache from remaining in that same tense position, and yet nothing came of the animatronics' threat. No more scary breathing, and no shattering of glass. Why hadn't anything happened yet?

Gingerly he lowered his arms from his face and looked hesitantly at the window, his tired muscles revelling in the opportunity to relax. Through the window was no sign of the animatronic. Where had it gone? There was no feasible way it could have gotten into the room without him being aware, perhaps it was crouching under the window or hiding someplace else, to lull him into a sense of false security. Like hell that would happen, that left door was staying down for the rest of the night, no matter how much power it consumed.

He remained there for a few minutes, too terrified to move an inch, to take his eyes away from the window. Yet despite how long he stood there, the monster refused to appear. If he had merely seen it, then maybe, just maybe, he could have convinced himself it was a hallucination; that this was all just a manifestation of his own fears and insecurities triggered by his stressful life. But he had heard it roar; hear it speak, its words still rattled his terrified mind. There was no such thing as a hallucination that could hurt your ears through noise.

Heart still thundering away in his chest, he crouched down and fumbled under the desk, searching blindly for the tablet. He didn't dare shift his gaze from the window out of fear the robot would leap through the moment it was unobserved. As his fingers gripped the edge of the tablet he pulled it back it one swift movement, examining it for any possible damage. There were a couple of scratches on the frame but the feed was still coming through fine and that was all that mattered.

The feed was exactly as it had been when Mike dropped it; focusing down the west hallway. And hobbling down that hallway towards the hall was Bonnie, shuffling away at an almost nonchalant pace, as though that scare was part of some standard routine.

"What… the fuck just happened?" He whispered to himself half out of fear, half out of stupefaction. All that terrifying drama and death threats just to give up? Perhaps it hadn't realised it could break through the window, although if it was smart enough to talk then surely it knew how to break a window. There wasn't a single explanation as to why it would just stop attacking like that, especially since he had reacted aggressively in response.

Perhaps it was toying with him. He was stuck here for god knows how long and it knew it. The only way to keep it out was by closing the doors, and he had already chewed through his available power. The animatronic had effectively placed him within the dilemma of opening the door and risk letting it in, or keep them closed until he ran out of power, in which case it would get in anyway. His shift ended in three hours' time, but it wasn't another hour until the sun came up. Presumably these… things didn't move about during the day, but at what point would they stop? He didn't like the guy, but Mike hoped that Tom would show up first thing in the morning.

Even now Mike struggled to understand what was happening. His life was in danger, that he was certain of. But what exactly was the thing after him? The guy on the phone prattled on about the animatronics were set to stuff humans, mistaken for exoskeletons, into the animatronic suits, and that this was merely part of their programming. But Bonnie had looked him in the eye and spoken to him with a level of understanding that a mere robot could not imitate, especially a hunk of junk that sang for kids. To his credit the phone guy had warned him of the danger of which Mike was grateful for, but his explanation sounded _off_. But then why would he tell Mike a half-truth? And if it wasn't just a misguided robot, then what was conspiring to kill him?

"None of this makes any bloody sense!" The human let out a snarl of frustration at his own lack of understanding. If he had any understanding of this, then he would have been far more capable of dealing with it, as insane and impossible as this was. Today. Today he would go straight to the library first chance he could get and uncover as much as he could about this place. It was unlikely there was any information about murderous robots, but there had to be _some _news article or something similar which could provide an explanation and shed some light on this mystery.

Another question came to mind, this one making him shiver in fear far worse than his own plight. Glen had mentioned last night about the rate at which the night guard had to be 'replaced'. How many people had gone through this nightmare before him? Anyone who survived would have the common sense to never come back, but not all of them would have been warned like Mike had. Not all of them would have had the chance to react, and there was no possible way Henry hadn't noticed the massive turnover of employees… Was he aware of this? And furthermore, how had this not reached public attention?

Even as he conversed with himself he vigilantly watched the monster through the cameras. It had wandered aimlessly from the dining hall, to the backstage and back again for some time now, occasionally peeking down the hallway. But upon seeing the door still closed, it would return to leisurely stroll around the building. Even worse, sometimes it would glance up at the cameras and glare as if it knew exactly when it was being observed. He had tested it several times now by quickly switching cameras and back, and each time he did so Bonnie acknowledged his presence. Was it connected to the camera system in some way? The thought the he was the one being watched made him gulp nervously. The moment he took his eyes of that machine, it knew it had the opportunity to shift room without Mike being aware.

A notification popped up on the tablet, warning him of excessive power usage. Dammit, with the doors closed he was running out of power far quicker than he had anticipated. Last night it had slowly trickled away, giving him the illusion that power was no problem at all. But now that he had to actually utilize it, the reality of the situation was hitting him hard. What was he supposed to do? No matter what he did it seemed absolute that the robot would eventually get to him.

As absurd as it sounded, it seemed as though his only choice was to open the doors back up, and close them whenever it came back down the hallway. From what he had seen so far it couldn't move very fast because of those clumsy feet, so using this strategy would allow him to keep it out but conserve power. Of course, this was assuming that the robot wouldn't wizen up and just sit outside the door and wait patiently, but this was the only option that gave Mike an opportunity to survive, and he wasn't going to ignore it.

As the robot slipped back into the backstage, Mike released both doors, tensing in trepidation. For as long as Mike had been observing it, Bonnie seemed to shift back and forth between the same rooms, as if it were on a patrol of some sort. Notably, it ignored the entire east part of the building entirely and focused on the west. As it passed the entranceway it would pause each time and peek out the windows before dashing past, as though it were avoiding being spotted by passer-by's. That confirmed they were aware of the necessity to remain undetected, but to what end? If he managed to get past them and out the doors would they continue to pursuit him or give up the chance?

It wasn't until 20 minutes later that the robot noticed the office door was once again open, and its response was immediate. At its laboured pace it proceeded down toward to hallway, with the cameras conveniently cutting out as it came. He was still petrified for his life, but this time Mike was prepared. By the time the rabbit had made it to the end of the hallway the door had closed and Mike stood apprehensively, unsure whether this would work. There remained the possibility that it would decide to break the window, and in that case Mike was prepared to sprint down the easy hallway and out the entrance.

The robot came up to the window and paused, as if contemplating the situation. _'Don't break the window don't break the window don't break the window' _That same thought repeated itself over and over in his head until it because a mantra, a desperate plea for his survival. His life depended upon this moment, upon the hope that this monster was too stupid to know what a window was. There was no sound but his own heavy breathing, but the silence stifled him far more than any noise could.

"_Kill…" _With an angry grumble the rabbit lurched away from the office and stumbled back down the hallway without glancing back. Mike checked to see that the robot had exited the hallway before opening the door back up. For a brief moment it looked like the machine would attempt to get him via the other hallway, but instead it sauntered off towards the backstage for the umpteenth time that night. Mike just didn't get it. It was blatantly making attempts to get him, and yet it gave up at the slightest resistance. Was it just lazy? Or was it not as invested in killing him as it appeared to be?

Bonnie's pattern remained consistent for the rest of the night. He would continue to pace back and forth listlessly, paying little attention to his surroundings. Infrequently he would make his way down the hallway and attempt to enter, but Mike was prepared. The constant tension was exhausting his mind, but there was no way that monster would get into the office on his watch. This was a lethal game of cat and mouse, or rather rabbit and human, that he was determined to win. With each loss it would bellow another threat in its insidious voice before departing once more.

At one point Mike had worked up the courage to reply in kind. "Go fuck yourself!" He had cried. But that had only made it angry; causing it to loiter around the door for longer as it threatened to tear him limb from limb, it's giant jaw snapping up and down. He was still scared shitless, but the fact that the robot was actually communicating somehow made it seem… less scary. He couldn't quite explain why, but a talking monster was far less intimidating than one that silently moved about.

The sound of clanging metal made the human's heart leap out of his chest as he strained his ears to locate the source of the noise. It was coming from the direction of the east hallway, but upon investigating the hallway was empty on the feed. Was it from the kitchen?

The rattle of pots and pans confirmed his suspicions; something was going down in the kitchen. Cupboard doors slamming, the clattering of pots and other unidentifiable sounds emanated from the room, and to cap it off Mike couldn't observe it through the cameras. But if it wasn't Bonnie causing it…

Mike returned to the stage and let out an audible groan, not caring if it drew anybody's attention. Now Chica had disappeared from the stage too, leaving the bear by itself. It wasn't surprising that more than one of them was sentient, heck all of them must be, but that only made this situation all the more horrific, and deadly. As scared as he was he could easily keep one out by being attentive, but two? Three?

Now he had Bonnie on his left and Chica on his right, and if they decided to both attack at once then he wouldn't be able to react. He paused to wipe the sweat off his brow. He hadn't noticed until now but he had been sweating like a pig even since this started, and he was staring to get dehydrated. His breathing came out at an irregular rate and it took sheer concentration to prevent hyperventilation. It felt like a dream, all of this felt like something out of a story, or a movie. And yet here he was in a kid's restaurant, frantically flicking from camera to camera to maintain observation of murderous robots lest they sneak up on him.

The metallic sounds ceased as a giant avian robot came tottering out of the kitchen and into the dining hall. Its beak snapped open and shut repeatedly as it went, as though it were emulating the action of chewing. Shit, Bonnie was making his way back to the office, and if Chica decided to follow suit then he was in a tough spot.

As Bonnie also passed through the hall the two robots paused and looked each other in the eye, a brief moment of silence passed between them, before they both went on their way. Seconds later the tablet burst into static, and without thinking Mike forced the left door closed. At first it had seemed like a malfunction, but he noted that the cameras only went offline went Bonnie went to attack him. It couldn't be a coincidence, yet how could it interfere with the transmission like that? It _was _a robot, but an old archaic one. There was no way its outdated AI was advanced enough to interfere with a wireless communication like that.

But either way, it was happening. The animatronic was somehow manipulating the cameras so it could sneak up on him undetected, just another hazard to watch out for. As expected when the feed came back up, there was no bunny to be seen down the hallway. This time he hadn't heard any footsteps, but he had seen it enter the hallway.

"I know where you are!" Mike whispered to himself under his breath. A small, triumphant small flourished on his face as he checked the camera right outside the door. In the small gap past the door the rabbit stood waiting, in the vain hope that Mike would think he was gone and open the door. "I can see you shithead!" Mike yelled through the door, laughing as the robot jumped and looked angrily up at the camera. "Yeah, that's right. You can't fool me!"

It wasn't wise to antagonize monsters, but this was his only way of coping with the situation. It gave him a sense of power, of control. They say that the greatest fear comes from a sense of lack of control, of helplessness. He was the one in control here, he was the one in control of the doors and the cameras, and so long as he was vigilant and resourceful, then there was no way they could get to him. He had done himself a favour and brought out the old baton, placing it on the desk. It likely wouldn't help much, but in the event that of them got in he would use it to defend himself, no matter how vain the effort was.

He steadied his breath into a constant rate and a warm sensation began to burn in his chest. They weren't going to get him, they weren't! He released the door the moment Bonnie had left, noting that the rabbit didn't bother turning around. An eerie shadow was cast down the hallway as it went, its ears twitching spasmodically. It was persistent in its assault, but gave up quickly. He only needed to check the hallway every minute or so to eliminate the threat that Bonnie posed, but that still left Chica, and possibly Freddy, left to worry about.

As the hours passed, it became apparent that Chica behaved differently from Bonnie. The latter moved with purpose; systematically stalking him down the hallway and then retreating when obstructed, only to calculate the next prime opportunity it could use to kill him. Whatever it was, it was smart, a hunter in every meaning of the word.

In comparison, the bird wandered without purpose, shifting from one room to another without paying attention to Mike or Bonnie. Only once had it come down the hallway, merely to turn back around again. Even though it hadn't posed an immediate threat yet, Mike kept an eye on it. There was a good chance that this was some sort of tactic designed to trick him, to make him ignore it out of the belief it was harmless, whereupon it would strike.

That just left Freddy. Mike switched to the stage to see that Freddy hadn't moved an inch with microphone still in hand. If the other two were 'alive' then this one must be too, so why didn't it move? Perhaps it was asleep, or unable to move for the time being. It wasn't until halfway through his shift that Bonnie became active, and Chica took even longer. Was there some sort of pattern he wasn't noticing? To be honest, the more innocent the animatronics appeared to more he was wary of them. Bonnie made his intentions and his capabilities apparent, and Chica although currently not a threat was mobile. Freddy just stood there with that stupid grin on his face. Mike half expected him to leap at the camera any minute now.

But for the time being he had to keep an eye on Bonnie. If the others became dangerous, he would deal with them then. For now Bonnie was his only concern.

"Where are you, rabbi-huh?"

The sound of scampering footsteps and a slamming door echoed throughout the building, making the guard jump in alarm. Mike knew there was only one door in the building – the supply closet one. But why the hell would someone go in there? Investigating, he found the sight of the purple rabbit crouching in the confined room, staring intently at the door it had closed. Its ears were pressed down flat and it clutched its knees, leaving grip marks were its hands dug into the material that made up its body. It made no further attempt to move, but it was… twitching? No, it was shaking.

Furthermore, Chica had fled into the toilets and was crouching behind the female stall in the same manner, the glow of her pin-prick eyes staring out of the dark. This was new behaviour from the both of them, and it was the only time they behaved exactly the same. It was as if something had spooked them, but what could scare killer robots? If something scared them, then it was definitely something he should be scared of too, if he could figure out what it was. He felt as though he were missing something, as though he had forgotten something important in the chaos that had occurred overnight.

"Aaarggh, what was it?" He shook his head violently, hoping the information would fall out of his brain and appear before him. "I've forgotten som-"

Shit.

Pirate Cove.

To be fair, when you're struggling to preserve your own life whist coming to terms with the supernatural circumstances you're in, it's easy to forget anything that isn't relevant to your immediate safety. But if there was something extra lurking in that place, then it _was_ relevant. His finger hovered over the appropriate key, as butterflies flittered about in his stomach. He took in a deep breath and pressed the button.

At first nothing seemed out of the ordinary; the curtains were agape and the sign stood where it was, causing that feeling of fear to dissipate as he sighed with relief. But if he looked closer, he could see that the sparkly curtains were much wider than they had been previously been, and written on the sign…

"**IT'S ME!"**

_Clack-clack-clack-clack_

At that exact moment he head footsteps racing down the hallway at a frightening speed. These were different from Bonnies; his had been heavy and muffled by the material of his suit. These were loud, quick and _metallic. _By instinct he lashed out at the door control, but it was too late. Mike shrieked with tremendous pain as a metal hook dug into his hand, blood erupting from the wound. A large red creature stood triumphantly over him in the doorway, white pin-prick eyes gazing down unforgivingly at him.

"_GOTCHA!" _It shrieked in a high pitched voice, its gaping maw stretching out towards him, sharp teeth glinting under the glow of the light. "_Now you're mi- UUUAAARRGGHH!"_

With his free hand Mike grabbed the baton and swung it into the monster's face with all his might, the desperation to live fuelling his strength. The weapon collided with its face in a perfect strike, causing its head to snap back at an awkward angle. The force of the attack caused it to stumble backwards and collapse against the hallway wall, its hook forcibly tearing loose from his hand. With a snarl it leapt up and dove towards the human, only to smack into a solid metal door.

On the other side Mike stood gasping for breath, his wounded hand resting on the door control. It happened so fast he could barely remember it, but outside that door, one inch away from him, was the fourth animatronic that nearly killed him. It banged furiously on the door roaring and snarling like a savage animal, before it appeared in the window.

It was a fox, or what looked like one. Inside its snout were many sharp, serrated teeth that stuck out menacingly, some of them golden in colour. An eye patch stood erect above its right eye, flapping up in down in unison with its gnashing jaw. Against the glass rested its deadly hook, still dripping with the blood it had drawn from Mike's wound. Unlike the other animatronics this one was in serious disrepair. There were gaping holes in its torso and limbs, and the covering for its legs were missing altogether, leaving just the metal endoskeleton. It looked like the kind of thing you would find at a scrapyard, not a restaurant.

"You do not scare me!" Mike yelled at the top of his voice, using every bit of oxygen in his lungs to blast it with hate. The fox ceased its frenzy and stared at the man with knowing, malicious eyes.

"Hmph, a brave one, are you?" It's eyes narrowed as it bared its fangs. "We'll see how brave you are when I rip your stomach open and drag you down the hallway by your entrails."

"You'll have to get in here first!" Mike banged the baton threateningly against the window, but the machine didn't flinch.

"Don't worry, I will. You won't be the first sack of organs I've torn apart, and you won't be the last." With those words it shifted away from the window, as the morning chime began to play all around the restaurant. From down the hallway came the sound of Bonnie scampering back as quickly as it could, getting back into its rightful place on stage. Before the fourth animatronic turned and walked away, it had one last thing to say.

"You got away this time. But if you come back here, you're **mine**."

* * *

**A/N: Writer's block made this chapter a little frustrating to write due to my tendency to poorly format narrative, so sorry if it left you disappointed. Even so it was fun to write and I hope it's still fun to read. You guys are some really good readers and reviewers, you know. I always love those little 'new review' emails I get, since I always know they're from my most enthusiastic readers.**

**Any-whoo****, the arguably most popular character was introduced, hence the title. He's my favourite character, and yet I can't explain why he suddenly became so popular. He's just... cool?**

**It's a bad habit to ask the reader questions, but who is your favourite character, and why? I'm curious, is all. **


	7. The Morning After

**Chapter 7 **

**The Morning After**

Mike had waited until 6:30 before dragging himself out of the office; not out of fear, but of sheer exhaustion. The moment he no longer feared for his life, when he no longer had to vigilantly stare into that tablet; fatigue hit him like a truck. Even in the moments of peace where bonnie left him alone, his heart had pounded away at a rate that would give an old man a heart attack. If it wasn't for the throbbing pain emanating from his wound, he would have passed out for sure.

He was tired, wounded, hungry, severely dehydrated, in desperate need of the toilet, and his shirt stank of sweat. That had undeniably been the absolute worst night of his life and he doubted it would be any better if he stayed here for another. What was supposed to be a simple, relaxed part-time job turned out to be a horrific struggle for survival against supernatural entities, and all this for a hundred and twenty dollars? Fuck.

He held his injured hand close to his chest and constricted the blood flow with his shirt, not caring about the sticky warmth spreading through it. It didn't hurt too much; the hook had dug into the flesh in-between his thumb and index finger about half an inch deep, the real damage had been done when it had come out, taking some of his skin with it. He could still move it fine despite the pain, and so long as he cleaned and bandaged it he wouldn't need stitches. Hopefully.

He paused at the end of the hallway and peered hesitantly into the dining area, scanning it for any unusual activity. The sun had risen not long ago and the first tendrils of light shone in through the windows, bathing the room in a healthy glow and dispelling the unnerving aura the building emanated just minutes ago. At exactly 6Am the animatronics had fled back to their original places and haven't moved an inch since, but after the trauma of last night he didn't trust them in the slightest. Even in the daylight he was here alone and he didn't even know if Tom or any of the other employees would show up this early. After he had mocked and threatened them all night like that, it was plausible that they would risk exposing themselves on camera just to enact revenge against him.

He surreptitiously snuck across the room towards the kitchen, pausing every few steps to glance at both sets of curtains behind which his enemies lurked. It was only a few steps away, but his sense of self preservation had switched into overdrive mode as of last night. The main stage remained undisturbed as it always had been, and over by the entrance the curtains of Pirate Cove had been drawn closed once more, sparing the small gap in the middle which light feebly trickled through, and the eerie message he had seen scrawled on the sign last night was replaced with the original message.

That only begged the question of where it went, and how it had gotten there in the first place. He had _definitely _seen it with his own eyes; after all it had been his only warning that the fourth animatronic had left to kill him. But why would it warn him that it had left? Was it part of some joke, taunting him before his demise?

He made his way to the kitchen, clambering over the counter with laboured effort, before flopping down on the other side in an anguished heap. Since the camera here didn't function this was the first glance he got at this mysterious room. His imagination had run wild envisioning this place, but in reality it was just an ordinary, if not spacious kitchen. Alongside the right wall dozens of modern pizza ovens lined the wall waiting patiently to be used during the day. At the back two large, white metal doors were embedded into the wall, leading to what Mike presumed to be the cold storage. And on the left wall were standard ovens, benches and cupboards, where the ingredients would be cooked and the pizzas composed before completing their life cycle in the pizza ovens. The pristine cleanliness of this room made it feel abstract and alien to the rest of the slightly dishevelled establishment.

The red cross of a first aid kit caught his attention, causing him to stumble weakly towards it across the room. In his exhausted state it took a minute of fumbling with the latch and cursing under his breath before he could finally retrieve the contents which he desired. There was an element of panic in the air, the urgent desire to escape from this hellhole, but he knew he wouldn't even make it out the door in his current condition.

Walking over to a sink, he sucked in a deep breath, bit his lip, and plunged the wound under the cold water rinsing it clean of blood. Tiny streams of intermixing blood and water raced their way across the immaculate basin and down the drain. The immense pain pulsing from his wound forced continuous screeches of pain from his tired lungs during the entirety of his self-treatment, not relenting even as he applied the antibiotic cream and bandaged the wound tightly, testing it with a firm tug. First Aid Class was probably the only useful thing he remembered from high school, and he was just fine with that.

Taking a glass cup from the cupboards above, he poured himself a glass of water and administered a dose of ibuprofen, gratefully gulping each droplet of the life-giving liquid. Funny how most of the time water seems like a crappy alternative to every other drink on the planet, but when you're dehydrated it becomes the most valuable liquid on earth, the delirious human thought to himself.

With his immediate needs met he slumped down against the cupboards in complacency, barely noticing that the pain wracking through his arm decreased with every heartbeat, but so too did his state of mind. His meek attempts at standing failed miserably as the room began to spiral, features growing blurrier and blurrier each second. Below him was a pitch black void steadily closing in, yawning out to greet him as he fell down.

"_Noo..."_

"_Have… to…"_

"_Es…"_

"…_cape…"_

* * *

He was in a dark hallway not unlike the ones at Fazbear's, the monochrome tiles stretching onwards forever in both directions with no end in sight, both ends engulfed by solid darkness. The posters or rules and regulations and the childish drawings had been replaced by macabre images of mourning faces, bloody streams pouring from their hollow, empty eye sockets.

He began walking forward, but no matter how far he progressed the surroundings didn't change. Seconds passed, minutes, hours, time stretched on until he was certain that he had aimlessly travelled down this demonic corridor for days on end. What the hell was this place? The Hell branch of the Fazbear Enterprise? Had he died? His wounded hadn't seemed that bad and he treated it in time… But the one who attacked him _was_ a rusty, run-down robot possibly carrying god-knows-what diseases. Dammit! After all that effort he went through to survive just one damn night and here he was trapped in purgatory.

_Clack-clack-clack-clack_

A familiar sound rung down the hallway from behind him, causing him to break into a frantic sprint ahead of him. He didn't have to look to know what was causing that sound. The sound of his own footsteps rebounded off the walls in unison with the ones behind him, creating a horrific beat that pounded in tune with his flight for safety. Even with pouring every last ounce of energy left in his body the metallic footsteps behind him sounded closer, and closer. The posters on the wall steadily transformed as he ran, turning into pictures of his own, agonized, mutilated face. He tried screaming out for help to anyone listening, to let someone know where he was, but no sound came from his mouth no matter how hard he gasped. The footsteps were right behind him now, almost synchronized with his as they both raced down the infinite length of passage.

_THWUCH_

A disgusting, sloppy sound erupted from below him followed by a continuous splattering noise as he run. He looked down in horror to see that his belly had been split open and his intestines had spilled out onto the tiles below, dragging and flailing madly behind him. Blood gushed from the wound, soaking his lower half. He held one hand over the wound in a desperate attempt to prevent any more damage, but unidentifiable organs continued to splatter out.

_TWUUGGHH_

Another sound came from his body, this one solid like the sound of breaking bone. He couldn't see what it was, but it felt as though the back of his head had been torn out, little chucks of brain tearing themselves loose form his cranium. Even with the damage that his body took he felt no pain and continued to run effortlessly, the footsteps behind him refusing to let up. This was hell. It had to be hell. No other place in reality or fiction could possibly allow someone to endlessly suffer like this.

"_makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop" _That same thought repeated itself in his head incessantly, the sole desire for this torture to end. Behind him a low staticy growl erupted growing louder as more and more body parts were torn off of his body. Somewhere in the darkness his arm vanished as it was torn off, severed tendons, bones and veins twitching madly where his elbow should be. Finally the tendons in his ankle were sliced clean off and he helplessly fell down onto the floor like a broken doll. From above a red face looked down upon him, pin-prick eyes glowing.

AaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAaaaAAAaAAaaaAAAAAA YoooOuuU AaaREe **MINE!"**

* * *

…

…

…

"Hola? Hello? Damn, he's unconscious…"

The coldness of an open palm brought the exhausted guard back to reality. As the room swirled back into view and dull uncomfortableness returned to his body, he looked up to see an olive-skinned face amongst the blur. Warm, chocolate eyes darker than his own looked down upon him, with thick but trimmed eyebrows furrowed in concern.

A lady in the standard Fazbear uniform crouched over him, one hand resting on his forehead. Her thick black hair had been tied back into a pony-tail by some cutesy pink hairtie straight from Japan and the faint scent of perfume wafted in the air around her. Even in his groggy state of trauma he felt his cheeks begin to burn red in self-consciousness in the presence of this pretty woman.

"Oh, you're awake!"

Upon realising he had awoken she leapt back in alarm, raising her hands in self-defence. Ignoring her Mike struggled to get to his feet before collapsing back down, rubbing his eyes woozily. The pain from before had ceased but his head was clouded and his muscles unwilling to respond as though he had just woken up after a night of binge drinking.

"W-What happened to me?" He called out to the woman pleadingly.

"I have no idea. I just came into work and here you were, slumped against the counter like this. I don't know how you got in here without breaking through a window, but you better leave before someone else shows up. My employer doesn't take nicely to robbers." She looked around nervously, evidently uncomfortable being alone with this strange man.

"I'm… I'm not a thief. I'm the security guard."

The restored memories of the previous night and morning hit him like a truck. He remembered fighting against the machines, swearing at them, defending himself when it came to it. And he remembered struggling down the hallway in the morning, tending to his wounds in the kitchen. After that… he had passed out, hadn't he? And that awful nightmare he had was something he would need counselling over. In the moment he had genuinely believed he had died.

Her eyes lit up in surprise and curiosity in response. Without another word she helped him back up to his feet putting her arm around his shoulder to support him, before leading him away to the dining hall.

"The new security guard? You're still here? Damn, you're the first one I've seen in a long time." She helped him over to a nearby table and allowed him to slip into the seat, letting out a sigh of relief. "You know, I'm grateful you are. Phelps would have my ass if I let a homeless man just walk out."

"Homeless?" Judging by her immediate, flustered reaction, the look he gave her must've been less than friendly. She stood on the spot hands behind her back, shifting nervously from foot to foot like a chided schoolgirl.

"Oh, sorry, well… uh… You were just so hot and sweaty looking, and, uh, the way you had just bandaged yourself and passed out I thought straight away that you were some drunken homeless guy. Sorry…"

"Don't worry about it, it's cool. I had a… stressful night which is why I look like shit." He waved her away dismissively, not wanting to make her any more uncomfortable. He wouldn't call himself a ladies man, in fact he was as much of a typical lad as you can get, but he hated the sight of a nervous or otherwise unhappy lady.

"Must've been one hell of a night. What happened to your hand?" She pointed at the crudely bandaged wound of his hand, a small spot of blood seeping through where the wound was.

"Oh, this? I cut it on the desk in the office. It's hard to see in there and I guess I'm sorta clumsy. It should heal just fine though."

"I hope so. Anyway, what's your name? I'm Maria Farias, one of the senior cooks." Her accent was interesting yet vague, with Hispanic undertones, much like what he was used to seeing in the movies. Subconsciously he remarked to himself how nice it was to listen to. Foreign, but familiar.

"Mike, Mike Schmidt. As I just told you I'm the new security guard. Been here two nights now." He rubbed his eyes wearily. He was mostly lucid now but the effects of the medication made the back of his head feel numb.

"Two nights, huh?" She nodded enthusiastically with his words. "Stay another three nights and you'll be setting a record."

"Huh? Record?"

"Yeah. We're not really allowed to talk about work outside of our own shifts, company policy and all that but…" She folded her arms and looked back at the doors nervously, as if anticipating someone's arrival. "The guards don't really stay around for long. Don't know why, but they just keep leaving. It's so bad that we haven't had one stick around for any longer than week in several years." Her eyes darkened and she shifted into a serious state, folding her arms. "I don't know what goes on here at night, but from what I do know, any sane man would give up and quit."

"Good thing I'm not sane then." He let out a dry chuckle at his own little joke. It was supposed to be a joke, but with his mind reeling to accept everything that had happened in the last 24 hours he didn't feel like his mind was still 100% intact. She paused for a moment as if she took him seriously, before laughing alongside him.

"Well, at leas-" **BANG**

She was interrupted by the sound of a door closing loudly behind them. Mike quickly swivelled around in panic ready to tell Maria to run if necessary, only to see the hulking frame of Tom lurch out of the backstage. As his thick head turned around to look back at them, a scowl quickly settled on his features.

"What are you doing here? You _know_ you aren't allowed in here until 7." He pointed accusingly at Maria with one finger, leaning forward aggressively. Mike would like to say he would defend a woman if necessary, but if he was up against a brute like Tom he'd scamper away like a wuss in a heartbeat. There was something intimidating about excessively muscular men that even demonic animatronics lacked.

Maria rolled her eyes with an audible groan of disgust. "Calm down Tom. There's a birthday party first thing in the morning and I needed to come in early to prepare. Just do your job and I'll do mine, ok?" Hands on hip like some sass queen, she redirected the mean look back at Tom. Mike expected him to roar and lunge like a gorilla at the retaliation, but he merely grunted in response.

"Whatever. What's wrong with him?" He nudged in Mike's direction.

"I had an accident and cut myself. I managed to bandage myself but I think I passed out from the shock." An ordinary man, Mike thought bitterly to himself, would be honest and yell and scream and warn both of them about the killer robots residing in this place and how they needed to do something about it. But he had seen enough horror movies in his time to know that no one would believe him. He would be the typical wacko nutjob and only distance himself from the only people who would listen to him, and unlike movie characters he didn't have an audience to sympathise with him. Besides, those robots were here in the room with them, probably listening intently, and there was the rare chance they may intervene if he tried to warn somebody.

"Heh, just do us all a favour and don't die in there. I don't want to clean your guts off the walls." With that ominous message he turned their back on them and clambered up onto the stage, vanishing behind the heavy curtains.

"Asshole." Maria and Mike simultaneously muttered the same word under their breath as they watched him go, glad to be rid of his company.

"FUCK'S SAKE!" Not one second had passed before Tom bellowed in rage, crawling from out under the curtain and lunging towards to pair. Maria leapt up and scrambled back in time, but for Mike it was too late. He felt those solid fingers grasp onto his shoulder painfully tight as he found himself effortlessly hoisted out of the chair and held in front of a very red-faced Tom.

"You think that's funny, shithead?" He roared directly in his face, causing Mike to grit his teeth at the unbearably loud noise. In the background he could hear Maria pleading, but her words were indecipherable due to the ringing in his ears.

"Whatwhatwhat what did I do?" He cried out, searing pain shooting through his neck in rapid shots. Tom's grip was so solid it felt like he had concrete cylinders for fingers, each one wrapped around his shoulder blades, veins bulging with rage.

"You bloody well know what you did!" Without another word Tom dragged him across the room knocking chairs out of the way as they went, before throwing him up on stage. Mike desperately tried to stand up, only to be grasped by the larger man again. "LOOK!" Mike struggled to focus on the yellow animatronic before him. At first nothing seemed out of the ordinary, the chicken stared unfocusedly back at him with a blank stare, no longer an animate creature. But then he saw that Chica's beak was filled with cheese and other pizza toppings oozing out, as though some jackass had stuffed it full with food as some sort of prank.

"I don't know why she's like that! Just put me down!" He pleaded, wriggling and writhing to break free, but Tom's grip prevailed.

"You were watching the cameras all night, weren't you!?" He snarled in response, shaking him back and forth.

"I didn't see anything! If something strange happened I would've reported it immediately! "Look, I've had a really, _really _shitty night, far worse than you have probably ever experienced in your life. But I can't explain why that robot is like that. Just let go, please!"

"Let him go Tom! We didn't solve this mystery seven years ago and we aren't going to solve it now!" Maria frantically screamed from the other side of the curtain, beseeching her fellow employee to leave him be. Tom paused for a moment to ponder, before throwing him down with an agonized sigh.

"I don't know why, but every FUCKING night this stupid thing has its mouth filled up with pizza. It's been going on for years and years and it's a pain in the ass to clean out! And to make it worse, none of the guards ever stick around long enough to give me an explanation. I just don't understand what the fuck is going on in this place!" With a swipe of his great hand he smacked Chica across the face, causing her to careen into the back wall and crumple in a heap, her platter and cupcake rolling away. "You're a worthless piece of shit. All of you are!" Once again Tom took out his anger out on the animatronics, stopping to yell vehemently at Freddy and Bonnie as well.

With Tom no longer paying attention to him, Mike scrambled to get away from both him and the robots. Not one of them had moved an inch, but he seriously doubted they appreciated being treated in such manner. Hopefully they wouldn't take it out on him during the night.

As he limped away Maria came sprinting up to him, her face contorted with concern once more. "Are you okay? That bastard didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Nah, I'm fine. Although I'm dog-tired so if you don't mind, I'm going home for some rest. Nice to meetcha." It was true, even after his little nap in the kitchen he was exhausted and if he didn't get some proper sleep it was likely he would collapse within the hour. His legs felt as though they were lined with lead, each step taking a surge of effort to accomplish.

"Oh, right. Well, I better let you go on your way then." She stepped aside, giving him clear sight of the entrance. The morning sun now shone radiantly through the glass, illuminating it as though it were a portal to heaven. With a wave of goodbye he headed past her, the prospect of slumber now more enticing than heaven itself. Even the danger of the animatronics was dulled in his sleepy haze.

"Wait!" Before he could exit the building, words from his newfound friend made him turn around. "Mike, wasn't it? Hey, let's hang out some time! The night guards are somewhat a legend around here, so I'll tell the other staff about you!"

He gave an empty nod before leaving her behind, gulping in the first breath of fresh, winter air in what felt like eternity.

The walk home was peaceful and uneventful, something he was grateful for. The morning winter air was crisp, nipping relentlessly at his ears. The previously hot sweat-stains on his shirt now made him shiver uncontrollably, the same way one would after skinny-dipping in a lake. It hadn't begun to snow yet, but the freezing weather and general atmosphere gave a foreboding warning of the heavy snowstorms yet to come.

It was almost incomprehensible to him that all this drama, all this action, all this _fear _during his employment at Freddy's had happened over a mere two days. And yet he still had another four weeks and three days before that wretched restaurant closed down, hopefully for eternity. After that, he couldn't care less what happened to those robots or anyone else employed there.

Maria was correct when she said any sane man would quit that job, but it wasn't because of his lack of sanity that Mike was determined to return, but because of a sworn oath to someone he could no longer break without consequence.

* * *

**A/N: This chapter was supposed to carry over all the way into the third night, but it was starting to get kinda long, and if I didn't end it here I wouldn't have been able to upload it until a few days later. I feel bad since nothing really happened this chapter, but maybe it's okay to have character development without action. Let me know if you disagree. **

**When starting this story I made the decision that it would ignore the sequel entirely since it will definitely go in a different direction than what I intend for this story, and after seeing how the creator absofuckingloutly ruined Bonnie in the most gut-wrenchingly disgusting way possible, I'm glad I did. Seriously, what the hell. The rest of the fandom didn't take kindly to it either, it seems.  
**


	8. Playing With Fire

**Chapter 8**

**Playing With Fire**

In the darkness of the room the computer screen buzzed lazily before the somewhat rejuvenated man. Empty bottles of alcohol, some old some fresh, decorated his computer desk and the surrounding area like a rustic shrine to a god of inebriation, and a half-eaten meal lay unwanted. Nearby his bed was in disarray, blankets scattered all over the floor from when he crawled from out under them. Mike didn't like to call himself a slob, but if anyone came in here that would be the first thing that would come to mind.

He hadn't even bothered saying hello to his mother when he burst through the door; a mere nod was all she got from her son as he brushed past her. She didn't mind however, she knew her boy worked hard night and day. The strange bandage on his hand made her worry, but she would ask him about it after he had time to rest.

Mike's last burst of energy was consumed by ringing up his day job and calling in sick, and with feeble arms he clung onto the rails as he ascended the stairs. He hadn't even bothered removing his clothes when he crumpled onto the bed like a discarded ragdoll; he was fast asleep before his face hit the pillow.

He had slept in far longer than he intended to; the sun had already set hours ago and now the waning, pale moonlight cast a faint glow across the floor. During the evening the sound of honking horns and abusive drivers cursing to all in their way drifted up from the street below, but at this late hour silence dominated the urban streets, with only the occasional moan from an alleyway drunkard to disrupt it.

It had felt like mere minutes ago that he had left that hellish place he called work, and it felt like not a second had passed since he had collapsed on his bed in exhaustion, his body still trembling from the trauma incurred last night. Slumber had been but a brief respite from the terror of reality; not nearly enough to provide solace for what had happened to him, and what was yet to come. And yet despite all that he was preparing leave for that destination within the hour for a third time, this time knowing full well the horrors awaiting him with open, mechanical arms.

But not before he figured out what he was up against.

He had taken a shower, redressed his wound, devoured a crappy TV meal and now in the final moments before he braved the embodiments of fear themselves, he would resort to good old Google to find out what he could. It was logical after all, the internet was by far the largest source of information available to all of humanity covering every possible topic, and if there was a place he could investigate into a shady restaurant and it's continuously quitting employees, cyberspace would be the place.

Opening up a tab, he tapped in 'Freddy's Fazbear's Pizzeria' and clicked on the first link that came up. A brightly illustrated webpage bearing the now familiar trademark colours and logo of the restaurant came up, touting itself as the official website for the franchise. Like the pamphlet he had seen in-store it was of poor quality, and resembled a high school homework assignment more than an 'official' piece of programming.

It appeared to be made with some sort of basic program and had few resources, mostly outlining things such as the menu, opening hours and biographies of the animatronics. In fact, most of it had been copy pasted directly from the pamphlets, complete with spelling mistakes and grammar errors! What a joke. The rest of the website was nothing more than testimonies from people who probably don't exist remarking on how much they and their children _love_ Freddy Fazbear's, complete with smiling pictures of customers and staff. He paused to look at a picture of Maria smiling for the camera in the kitchen, and another one of Edwin kneeling with a child.

As fun as it was to mock the awful web design, it provided no useful information on the restaurant's history or its employment record. He didn't expect to see anything like 'Hey, this place is a really dodgy place to work and here's why!" written in bright neon letters, but there should have been information for prospective employees at the very least. The only reason he became aware of the job position in the first place was after hours of scouring newspapers, and even then the ad itself was small, and vague. He had heard on the news multiple times over his life that Fazbear's was supposed to be a high-quality, famous restaurant, and yet they couldn't afford a decent website? Or even a noticeable newspaper ad?

Returning to google, he typed in 'Freddy Fazbear's night guard job', waiting patiently for the results to come up. But nothing came. The screen froze and twitched for a moment as if the whole computer crashed, before he was redirected to an empty search page. At the very bottom written in italics were the words "_Due to a legal request submitted by Fazbear Entertainment® all results for this search have been removed."_

He stared at the screen, struggling to analyse the message. In all the years he had wielded the internet, he had never seen something like this occur. Blocked search results? The hell was that about? If it were something illegal then it would be understandable, but on what grounds could a franchise, _particularly _a near-bankrupt one, force something like Google block searches? He didn't have an estimate, but it would certainly take a gargantuan amount of funds just for the legal matters.

'Fazbear's missing guard'

'Fazbear's incident'

'Fazbear's employment records'

'Fazbear's r34'

'Fazbear's dangerous animatronics'

'Fazbear's animatronics'

'Fazbear's news'

It didn't matter what he typed in. The moment the search included Fazbear's or anything related to it, the computer froze and the same message appeared. To make matters worse, it wasn't restricted to google. Bing and every other search engine all had their own message, apologizing that they were unable to provide any results.

"_Just what the hell am I dealing with here?" _Mike pondered to himself as he switched off the computer. Through some method Henry or whatever legal cronies he had were actively censoring information regarding the animatronics, employment, or anything else that could get them into trouble, which meant that they must know about the danger the robots posed. And if that were true, then why the hell were they covering it up? Why weren't they making an active effort to stop them? To destroy them?

Mike's stomach churned with rage and disgust when it became apparent to him that his employer had been willingly sending men to die and for no apparent purpose. There was no way all those guards made it out alive being completely oblivious to what was going on, and most of them would have disregarding the phone guy's warning just like he had. What could possibly drive Phelps to commit all of these sadistic actions? Had the animatronics threatened him? Was it for money? He was an asshole for sure, but Mike severely doubted any man could be that irredeemably evil.

He had set aside a whole hour to do research on the topic of his workplace, and even with the greatest archive of human information at his disposal he couldn't find a single fact. But he wasn't going to give up just yet. The fact that this company was intentionally trying to hide the truth only made him more determined to find out what was going on in that damned restaurant. This was no longer a matter of personal curiosity, but an urgent crisis that needed to be solved. In less than five weeks from now Fazbear's Entertainment was shutting down for good, and at that time Henry would probably destroyed all remaining information. If he wanted to shine the light of truth on these events, he would need to do it before then, or never at all.

But he would have to worry about that later. It was 11:30 now and he needed to leave for work. It took about 15 minutes to reach his destination so there was no danger of being late, but he had a few things he needed to do before he braved his third night at Freddy's. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he left his room, bounded down the stairs and said goodbye to his mother before stepping outside.

The return trip to work felt completely different than the walk he taken earlier to get home, almost to the point where he felt like he was in a foreign land. The bitter winter air was now much harsher and bit relentlessly at his ears, and he kicked himself for wearing nothing but a shirt and jeans. The wind picked up and died away again in swift but brief bursts of activity, the barren branches of trees twisting and writhing under its force. If he stared too long, it began to look like they were beckoning him, urging him to press onwards towards the monsters that waited for him. Along the footpath the grass shimmered with dew under the moonlight, ready to turn into a savage frost by morning.

It would have been a pleasant, peaceful walk if not for the pounding within his own chest as he anticipated the events of the night. He was a madman to return to that place, he would gladly admit it. But somewhere in that addled mind of his was a spark of curiosity, a self-destructive desire to understand what those things were, and what drove them to kill. And if he was honest, being killed by supernatural entities sounded like an almost cool way to die.

The glass doors before him felt like an arcane barrier; a foreboding threshold to another dimension where evil was at home. Once course they were just ordinary doors and he could see Glen wiping down the tables inside, but it was more an instinctual feeling than something that could be seen with the eye.

Upon entering the room, that same uneasy feeling remained consistent. Physically, it looked no different than it had the previous nights, but the knowledge of what resided in here had permanently changed his perception of this building, and maybe even reality itself. Were they awake yet, subtly observing him from behind the curtains? Did they ever sleep at all?

Speaking of the boy, he smiled and hastily greeted the older man the moment he came through the door, abandoning his job mid-way. His hair had been trimmed back and cleaned but still hung heavily over his eyes, bouncing back and forth as he ran, giving him the appearance of a sheepdog bounding happily towards its master after a long day of work. Mike was beginning to think this kid had no friends, the way he was so eager to greet him after… what, three days of barely knowing him? Either that or he made a hobby of latching onto people.

"Hey! You're back again!" He hailed him with a friendly

I don't think I've ever seen anyone come back this many times. You must really like this job." He said, still smiling.

"Pffffft!" At that horribly inaccurate statement Mike's eyes rolled in his eye sockets fast enough to damage them. "It's the complete opposite, mate. Just promise me you'll go to college so you won't end up taking shitty jobs like I do." He held up his bandaged hand before the teenager, letting the sight of the wound sink in.

"H-How'd you get that? You're just sitting there all night, aren't you?" A tremor of anxiety rippled through his voice, the earlier cheerfulness fading away to Mike's regret. Damn, what was he doing, spooking this kid like that?

"Yeah, and that's why it sucks. Sitting there all night gets really boring, so boring I fell asleep and got myself hurt."

"Wow… And I thought cleaning this place was a boring job." He looked from Mike's wound to the cleaning products he held, and back again. "Working by yourself is kinda lame, isn't it." He let out a dejected sigh.

"Yeah, I s'pose." There was a moment of awkward silence between them, the sort when no one has anything to say. For a moment Mike considered saying goodbye, when it struck him that as unlikely as it was, Glen might know something about this place that he didn't. At least one employee must've looked into this themselves.

"Hey Glen, is it ok if I ask you a couple of questions?" He sat down at the nearest table and indicated for Glen to do the same. The boy remained where he was in hesitation, unsure of this sudden interrogation he was being roped into out of nowhere. But with a subtle nod he shifted into the seat opposite him, one soft brown eye looking at him expectantly from under his fringe.

"Uh, sure, what is it, Mike?"

He paused, seriously considering what to ask the boy. He had to be careful about what he said; otherwise Glen would dismiss him as crazy, or even creepy. He definitely wouldn't insinuate the animatronics were alive, or even suggest that something was wrong with the establishment. This kid had happily worked here for years, oblivious to what was really going down and Mike didn't want to ruin that for him.

"Well, what do you know about the guards, and why they keep quitting?" That was a safe first question, and appropriate to the circumstances. It would be natural for him to question this and Glen wouldn't think otherwise.

"I don't really know anything…" The boy thought seriously, fidgeting with the cleaning cloth in his hand. He didn't notice it, but Mike shot quick glances at the curtains in the room, watching for any premature activity from the enemies Glen was unmindful to. "All I know is just that. They keep quitting. I always see them come in on their first night and say hello, and by the next night they're gone, with another guy in their place. They never come back or leave an explanation or anything… It's like they just vanished. I've never seen anything like it."

"So you never got any proof that they actually quit?" Mike asked.

"Huh?" Glen looked at him in confusion.

"You say they quit, but then you also say that you never see them again. How do you know for sure that they quit?" Glen's eyes widened, as if he had never considered it.

"I… That's what Mr Phelps tells us! I don't know how he knows, but he always just says that they quit, and he never explains further." He trailed off, looking down in intense thought. "They have to have quit. What else would have happened to them?"

It was ominous, so ominous. Anyone would immediately see something wrong with that. It was easy to just insist that this job was awful enough to make every man who signed up for it quit out of disinterest and leave it at that, but the sense of unease, the feeling that this strange pattern was not yet explained, would lurk in the back on the mind of anyone who thought about it. His heart began to pound just thinking about how many men must've signed up for this job, completely unknowing to the trap they had walked into. And of those men, how many were left alive?

"Hmm, I guess you're right Glen. They must have quit." The youth nodded eagerly, as though he was eager to put this uncomfortable prospect behind him. "Second question, what do you know about the animatronics?" Mike continued.

"The animatronics?" Glen glanced at the stage and back again, scratching his head. "What about them? They sing for the kids at scripted times during the day, and that's all there really is to them."

"You… haven't seen or heard anything strange about them? Not at all?" Mike hastily checked his watch as he spoke, taking note of the time. He had to hurry up, midnight was steadily approaching and he didn't want to be caught in here when the lights went out.

"I haven't seen anything. They've always been up on stage where they should be when I come in to clean, nothing out of the ordinary. Although…" Glen drifted away midsentence, as if he had remembered something important.

"Although?" Mike pressed on, digging for an answer.

"Um, A few months ago one of the cooks was talking about how they came back at night because they left their wallet in the restaurant, but the building had already been locked up." He paused, biting his lip as he fought to remember the details of that seemingly unimportant discussion so long ago. "They said they saw Bonnie walking around the dining hall, as if it were looking for something. We went and spoke to Mr Phelps about it, and he just said something about a disabled free-roam mode before angrily reminding us all about the company policy." He let out another sigh. "The day after that, that cook was fired for 'unprofessional behaviour' and Mr Phelps introduced the new policy, which says no one but the night guard is allowed on the premises between the hours of 12:00AM and 6:00AM."

So there it was. More proof that Henry was willing to turn on his own employees to conceal the truth. On one hand, he was taking measures to protect employees from the animatronics, but Mike severely doubted it was for a purely benevolent reason. After all, less exposure meant less chance of this information getting out where it couldn't be censored.

"Um, do you need anything else from me? It's getting kinda late." Glancing at Mike's watch, Glen began to behave agitatedly, shifting around in his seat as though he desperately needed the toilet. Just like last night, the prospect of being here afterhours seemingly terrified him.

"Alright, one last question. What's up with that fourth animatronic?" He pointed in the direction of Pirate Cove, Glen turning over his shoulder to see where he was pointing. As always it remained untouched, but nevertheless that dark gap was still a foreboding sight in the otherwise bright room. He half expected those piercing white eyes to appear and fire lasers of hatred at him.

"Oh, that thing. Its name was uh… Foxy? Yeah, Foxy." He said, staring at the curtains alongside him.

"Ahahaahaaa! What a crappy name!" Mike burst out into laughter at the surprisingly inappropriate name, making no effort to hold back his sudden surge of amusement. "That's the sort of name I would expect from a washed out prostitute!" He raised his voice to a loud volume, hoping his insult was carried all the way over to where the target of his mockery lay. He had been told many times over the years that it was a bad idea to poke the bear, or in this case mechanical fox, but in this moment where his enemy was powerless it was simply too tempting to not go ahead and kick it while it was down.

"Yeah, it is kinda lame isn't it." Glen let out a chuckle to accompany Mike's great big guwaff, more perplexed by his bizarre reaction than amused by his joke. Once again unware that he was party to Mike's scorn of a paranormal entity in the same room as them. "But anyway, that thing has been in there as long as I've worked here, and far longer than that if I believe the other employees. I've only seen it once or twice since we're not really allowed in there, but it looks like a piece of junk, all tattered and stuff." He said.

"It's a piece of junk alright. But why is it like that? It can't have always been in that state." He said in a tone that begged the question. In all honesty he was curious as to why that machine was in it's dilapidated, dejected condition. So far it behaved no differently than the others; other than its swifter, more concise plan of attack. Perhaps Tom had lost his temper in a particularly egregious manner and taken it out on the animatronic, like Mike had seen him to twice now? Or perhaps it was victim to another one of Henry's beloved budget cuts, banishing it to its dark domain where it lurked balefully. If either of those cases were true, then Mike could understand where it's malignance came from.

"Uhhh…" Glen paused again as he mulled over the rumours and speculation fed to him by the other employees. "I'm not entirely sure, but I think there was an accident of some sort? Um, before that it sung like the others, I think. But it was sorta a 'baddie' that the others didn't get along with. I'm not sure what kind of accident it was or how it happened, all I know is that robot was involved in something and as a result it was decommissioned. It's been sitting there ever since." He turned back to Mike and shook his head. "I know it's just a piece of metal, but I kinda feel sorry for it."

"The Bite of '87…" Mike uttered to himself as those four words hit him like a jolt of electricity. Although vague, he recalled the man on the phone mentioning an incident regarding the animatronics, and chances were this was exactly what he was referring to. "Glen, does the bite of '87 ring any bells?" He asked, almost desperately. An image of Foxy's serrated teeth flashed through his mind, causing him to shudder. The word 'bite' alone left little to the imagination about what could have possibly gone wrong.

"The what? No, sorry, I've never heard anyone mention that." Glen shrugged apologetically.

"It's okay, I didn't expect you to know." His inward sigh and disappointed reaction contradicted his comforting words. "Although I wish someone knew _something_ about this place." He added.

"I'm sorry I wasn't much use…" Nervously eyeing the time, Glen leapt up out of the chair as he spoke. "Oh, Edwin! If anyone has information to share, it'll be Edwin. He's been here for a while, or so I've heard." Gathering up his things, he hastily booked it for the entrance without turning back. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, but I gotta go. See you tomorrow… hopefully."

Mike watched the teenager sprint away from the building in silence, the sudden solitude of this building bearing down upon him. He was alone, but at the same time not alone. Last night he had been utterly defenceless, a sitting duck completely unware to the monsters that closed in on it. Had he not checked the cameras, he would've died that night, just like the many guards before him.

Tonight however, he wouldn't be so vulnerable.

Getting up out of his seat, he meandered his away across to Pirate Cove, intently watching the curtains for any sign of movement. Even as he stood right before them, nothing occurred. This in itself was useful information. He was here alone and within reaching distance of the curtains, Foxy could have easily pulled him in and torn him apart without consequence, and yet it didn't. The guard steeled his nerves and bit his lip, before parting the curtain and setting into the interior.

Pirate's Cove was exactly what one would expect for a themed background. The wallpaper held the theme of a tropical island against the backdrop of an ocean, with chests of treasure and other pirate themed objects scattered around. In the corner of the area a large, multi-layered prop in the shape of a pirate ship stood dominate, its sails taunt and its wood coated in dust. It was definitely the most impressive thing in the building, enough to outshine even the main stage. Attached to the roof were several light fixtures much like the ones of stage, focused on the centre where Pirate Cove's eponymous star stood alone.

In the light he was nowhere near as scary, in fact now that Mike could clearly see his exceptionally poor condition, it looked rather pathetic. Massive tears rip and gashes all along his body left his costume in tatters, and his endoskeleton clearly visible. In the dark the others could easily be mistaken for giant, misshapen animals, but in any level of light the damage dealt to this machine made its true nature apparent. The upper part of his legs was a dirty brown which clashed with the rest of his body. Mike wasn't exactly sure what was wrong with them; at first he had thought them to be an old pair of Freddy's legs, but it seemed as though the designer had intended them to be a pair of shorts. The lower half of his legs were completely exposed, nothing more than metal. That explained why he had heard that distinct clacking sound as Foxy had sprinted down the hallway the night before.

As the man cautiously approached it, it made no move to react or acknowledge his presence. Rather, it stood motionless in the centre of its domain, jaw slightly agape as if addressing an audience of cheering children.

"Remember me?" Mike asked, in an almost snide manner. "What about this? Do you remember doing this to me?" He held up his bandaged wound before the animatronics eyes, forcing it to take a good look. "That's right, I'm back again."

Mike's gaze drifted to the pirate's hook, held in a menacing pose. As expected the metal attachment held firm to his limb, but where the hook connected to the base Mike could see that it could be unwound and removed. A naughty smiled formed on his face as he seized the same weapon that had injured him last night, carefully screwing until it came off with a satisfying squeak.

With an almost predatory gait he walked around the animatronic until he stood directly behind it, and without another word rammed the foxes' hook right up its own ass, in-between the small gap where it's leg attached to its hip. The animatronic made not a single movement to respond, but from deep within its jaw Mike could hear a satisfactory _**nggh**_ of pain.

Stepping back, he grabbed the animatronic by the shoulders and shook it back and forth. Rather than move individually, the legs moved as one unit causing the machine to teeter back and forth clumsily. As Mike had hoped, by jamming that piece of metal in that unmentionable place, it had gotten tangled in the metal crossbeams and effectively immobilized the lower half of Foxy's body.

"There we go!" In a last display of defiance he leant up to the fox and whispered into its ear. "Now let's see how fast you can sprint down that hallway, hmm?" And with that he left Pirate's Cove with a chuckle. As he crossed the dining hall he paused to yell at the stage just once. "And you other three clowns should be grateful I have no more objects to stick it where the sun doesn't shine, or you'd all be like you're little friend over there!" It didn't matter whether they knew what he meant, as the night begun they would see soon enough if Foxy tried anything.

As he entered the office, his fortress of operations, he let his backpack slump of his shoulder and onto the floor as he sat down in the rickety chair. Unzipping it, he retrieved a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, slipping the former into his mouth without another thought.

So, today he had made his first attempts at understanding the situation he had been unwittingly thrown into, and they had failed miserably. He had learned very little from Glen, and the internet was no help whatsoever. Like Glen had suggested, tomorrow he would speak to the kindly old man Edwin and see what the restaurant's oldest employee knew. As it stood, Edwin was quite possibly his only chance at obtaining any real information.

But that had to wait until tomorrow, which he wouldn't see unless he survived tonight. In one sudden burst the building descended into darkness as his third shift begun, the light of his lighter illuminating the room in an orange hue as he lit his cigarette. He took one mighty puff, letting the smoke fill his lungs up, before ejecting it up into the air in a single, giant puff, watching as it drifted up to the roof.

Most men would have quit this job by now, never to return. And those that dared to come back would have not made the incredibly stupid decision to mock and abuse the monsters that hunted them. The euphoric feeling buzzing through him right now was a volatile mixture of fear and reckless, self-destructive audacity. He hadn't just poked the fox, he had rammed a hook up it's ass. He was tampering with powers beyond reckoning, mocking monsters from beyond reality, playing with an all-consuming fire.

And it felt bloody amazing.

* * *

**A/N: I don't know what adjective would be best to describe my depiction of Mike. I'll come back to it when I find one that combines the meaning of the words scaredy-cat, brave, stupid and suicidal.**

**I haven't had time to probably develop any of them, but in tandem to the question I asked earlier, who is shaping up to be the OC (i.e Glen, Tom, Maria, Edwin and Henry) you like the most, expect to like the most, or want to see more of, and why? Since they're original and not canon, I'd like to put in extra effort to make them interesting characters and not forgettable inserts that you can find in any other fanfiction, which may require development over several chapters.**


	9. Predator and Prey

**Chapter 9**

**Predator and Prey**

Mike took another deep draw on his cigarette, before flicking it away. He shifted in his seat to a more comfortable position with tablet in hand, ready to lunge out at either door when the time came. It was game time.

He had eliminated the threat Foxy posed, at least for now. He had made certain that the hook had fully incapacitated the fox animatronic from the legs down; preventing it from sprinting down the hallway like it had last night. Presumably it could still crawl to him with its arms, but he would have plenty of time to respond. Mike let out an elated giggle at the thought of how furious and ashamed it must be at that very moment, it was probably trembling with white-hot rage. Hopefully it wouldn't find a way it get that hook out of its ass or he would be in _serious _trouble.

With Foxy no longer a concern, that just left the main trio on stage. Bonnie had persistently proven himself to be the most aggressive of them all, returning every few minutes in an attempt to get to him. In fact, he had been the only one other the Foxy to actually try and get in. Chica had just bumbled around in the kitchen all night and Freddy… Freddy had just stayed on stage. There was something unsettling about the fact that Freddy remained unmoving in comparison to his friends, who were very much active. It left Mike with a sense of uneasiness, a feeling that despite its harmless appearance insofar it was something to be feared.

He checked the cameras for any premature action. Each camera gave the same image of a dark, peaceful building at night, with the animatronics resting where they should be. If he were none the wiser, this would seem like any other ordinary restaurant. Good thing he was wiser.

Mike emptied the rest of the bag's contents onto the desk and rifled through the supplies he had brought with him in preparation for the onslaught he would inevitably face tonight. Energy drinks, sports drinks, chocolate bars and bandages lay scattered across the desk, ready to be consumed. He had gone all out and spent the last pathetic amount of money remaining in his bank account to buy the supplies he needed tonight. Perhaps he had spent a little too liberally out of paranoia, but if taking this job had taught anything, it would be that being safe is better than being sorry.

The old baton looked particularly useless from usage amongst the fresh supplies, and he feared that it would do little to protect him if an animatronic got in ever again. The only reason it had worked last night was because Foxy hadn't anticipated it, and thus caught him off guard, but now they knew he had it and they would be prepared for any counter-attacks he could employ. He promised himself that by next week, if he lasted that long, he would buy a proper police baton no matter what the cost.

It was only five minutes into the shift and he already felt dizzy from anticipation. Last night he had known nothing about the dangers of this place, and it was his instinctual reaction that had kept him alive. This night however, could be compared to receiving an injection. He knew it was coming and the fear of it happening, of it steadily drawing closer, only made it worse.

The sudden, shrill pitch of the phone ringing filled the room, shattering the heavy silence that had slowly begun to build up. Just like the nights before, a message had been left for him. Or was it a warning? That was the strange part about these recordings; any decent person would have left a clear warning detailing the danger and how to respond appropriately, and whilst this mysterious ally did leave hints, they were less than direct. Perhaps they really were trying to help, and there was something… or someone holding them back? It was already apparent that someone at this restaurant was actively trying to cover all this up. But if that was the case, why did they let this man leave messages in the first place?

The guard steadied his breath as he picked up the transceiver, hesitant to hear what had been left for him. Up until now he had scoffed at even the idea of taking these messages to heart, but this time he would pay attention for any subtle hints hidden within this seemingly innocent recording.

"_Hello, hello? Hey you're doing great!"_

Like the times before the same soft voice greeted him, partially fuzzy over the phones static. In the nights before the voice had been cheerful, upbeat, the sort of go-getter attitude you would expect from a youthful new employee. This night it was heavier, slower, almost as though the speaker was in deep concentration as they spoke. They still spoke in that cheery tone, but this time you could tell it was forced.

"_Most people don't last this long. I mean, you know, they usually move on to other things by now. I'm not implying that they died. Th-th-that's not what I meant." _After stumbling over his own words, the speaker paused in hesitation.

He had expected a subtle hint, but that was a blatant threat. What did he mean by that? It was blatantly obvious that he really _was _implying they died, but was he serious when he meant most people didn't last this long? Mike was nothing special, in fact he would readily admit he had been a bumbling idiot so far by ignoring the warning signs and antagonizing the robots and all, so how was it possible that he had lasted this long if it was as hard as phone guy implied? Were the animatronics going easy on him, or was he just lucky?

As the message continued to play Mike kept a sharp eye on the stage through the tablet, not moving his gaze from the tiny screen for a moment. With Foxy eliminated he could now keep an eye on the others without fearing a sneak attack like last time. The moment one of them moved, probably Bonnie, he would be there to see it.

"_Anyway I better not take up too much of your time. Things start getting real tonight…"_

"What? As if things aren't real enough already!" Mike protested angrily. How could this situation be any more dangerous than it already was? The only thing they could do was rush him all at once, and so far nobody had made a move. There was a feeling of unease as though he had overlooked something vital, but he couldn't think of what. He had the four monsters under his watch, and he had checked to make sure the doors and lights worked fine. There weren't any other threats, were there?

"_Uh... Hey, listen, I had an idea…"_

His idea turned out to be a stupid one; suggesting that he 'pretend' to be an empty costume in the event that one of the animatronics caught him. "You've got to be kidding me… Is he trying to get me killed?" Mike said to himself. As if they'd fall for something like that - these things weren't stupid. From what he had seen of them they had at least the same level as human intelligence, so anything that wouldn't fool a human wouldn't fool them. They knew exactly what he was and he doubted there was anything he could do to change that.

The speaker appeared to realise the stupidity of their own suggestion as they doubled back on it, before hastily bidding him goodbye. Once again Mike was left with his thoughts in the silence, mulling over the information given to him.

"Fat lot of help you were…" The guard grumbled. He noted to himself that if he ever had to leave messages for future guards, something he hoped he would never had to resort to; he would be far more helpful than this guy. But as displeased as he was by their unhelpfulness, he was comforted by that voice in some forlorn way. He didn't know who they were or where they were, or even if they were still alive. But they were the only person other than him who knew what it was like to be in this situation, and there was solace in that knowledge. Sometime he would have to investigate into who they were.

Movement on the screen snapped him out of his thoughts and back to reality. Bonnie had shifted ever so slightly, casting a gaze up at the camera observing him with the fake, red eyes. It's jaw moved up and down at steady pace as through it were speaking, as it pressed past the heavy curtains and moved out of view. It was barely noticeable, a mere fraction of a second even, but Freddy's eyes had flickered for a moment to acknowledge Bonnie's movement.

So it really _was_ sentient. It may have just been eye movement, but this was the first proof Mike had that Freddy was active like the rest, but that only begged the question why it didn't move around like others. Was it afraid of being seen? Or was it stuck in place? If it was capable of movement then it wouldn't make any sense just to stand there each night, not that the erratic behaviour of any of the machines made sense anyway. Was it playing mindgames, waiting for him to let his guard down? These questions had repeated themselves in his head over and over and he was no closer to solving them.

* * *

In the Dining Hall Bonnie stopped to stare over at Pirate Cove, tilting his head in curiosity. He had heard something go down over there, but what exactly he wasn't sure. Judging by metal clunk he had heard, it wasn't pretty. It was surprising to think that the human would even dare enter that place, especially after Foxy managed to injure him.

He had been hiding at the time; he already knew it was a bad idea to be out and around when it was Foxy's turn to attack, but he had heard the yells and screams from his hidey-hole. It wasn't clear how, but the new guard had somehow fought off Foxy even after sustaining an injury. That hadn't happened in… had that ever happened? Bonnie had no shame in admitting that Foxy was far faster and deadlier than he, maybe even he and Chica combined. He should have peeked; it had been nagging away at his brain at how someone could overpower _Foxy _of all people. There wasn't a man alive who could brag about the accomplishment – simply because Foxy had killed them all.

The rabbit turned into the hallway, focusing on the open doorway at the end. His prey was in there, waiting for him. He had shown tact not displayed by any of his predecessors in years, and the fact that they were still alive was the sole evidence of that. He had caught onto their game quickly, and he wasn't going to lose to the animatronics easily. Bonnie was surprised to see this human had returned at all. Just like all the others who were lucky enough to survive their first night, he should have run out those doors and not come back. It didn't matter who got to him first, him, Foxy, or maybe Freddy, returning here would be the end of him. And Bonnie would see to it personally that it was a terrible, bloody end.

He swivelled to look at the camera in the corner; the blinking red light staring back at him defiantly. It had taken them years of casual observation, but Freddy had eventually figured out that when the red light was on, the guard was watching. There was no point in moving whilst they were watching him; the moment he made a move for the guard they would shut him out, so he would need to wait until their attention waned. For now he turned back and retreated into the backstage, a mere shadow in the dark, in the hope that guard would pursue one of the others when they came after him.

It was a good thing there was four of them. He couldn't watch them all, and that's how they always got to them. They always made the same mistake of focusing on just one of them, or even worse, forgetting about one entirely. It was only a matter of time before someone else decided to join in on the fun, and when that happened he would be given a window of time to close the gap between him and his vulnerable, exposed prey. Crouching in the doorway, he lay ready to move as fast as his heavy feet could carry him the moment that red light faded out.

What felt like hours passed as he waited there, his breath rising and falling but chest remaining still. He had done this same thing every night for countless years, and yet each night that same feeling of exhilaration, tenseness and preparation surged through him no less than the night before. Perhaps others in his situation would grow used to it, make it a boring habit over time, but for this purple rabbit it was and always will be a hobby. No, not even that, it was a lifestyle.

Movement. The room was dark, far too dark for a human to see clearly, but fortunately for Bonnie his artificial eyes weren't restricted by the same boundaries as a human's - just another advantage he had. Through the gap in the door he watched Chica stumble down from the stage, humming the same nursery rhyme she always hummed. Noticing him in the doorway, she smiled at him and gave a tiny wave as she scampered onwards towards the toilets. Bonnie shook his head disapprovingly as she went, letting his ears twitch back and forth as they were prone to do.

Chica was different from the others. He, Freddy and Foxy always headed straight for the office, often one after the other, in an attempt to kill the guard. They each acted independently from one another in their hunt, but it could still be called a coordinated effort. The real teamwork occurred after the guard had been caught, it always took at least two, sometimes three, of them to drag their catch backstage and complete the Rebirth Ritual. Not even Freddy could handle a healthy human on his own, and once things had progressed that far it would be disastrous for a human to escape.

Rather than follow the pattern of her comrades, Chica followed her own arbitrary path. She would wander aimlessly around the building without purpose, often loitering in silly places like the toilets and kitchen and play by herself. It wasn't like she was being an inconvenience, but seeing her act so frivolous and carefree during the middle of a life and death struggle was vexing. And it didn't matter how much they reasoned with her, she always gave the same dismissive, careless replies. "I'll help when I feel like it!" She would say. Freddy had come close to abandoning her entirely, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. She was family, after all.

As Chica ducked into the toilets to do whatever she did there, the camera light in the room with Bonnie faded as the guard pursued her from the safety of his heavily fortified room. A fatal mistake. Shouldn't they know by now that they should be watching the animatronic closest to them?

"Thanks Chica." Bonnie whispered to no one as he gently pushed the door open, making sure not to let it squeak. Cautiously he skirted around the tables and chairs as he advanced across the room, one eye carefully watching the camera for that red light. The most important element of the hunt was surprise, earned mostly through stealth and it was a skill Bonnie had become quite adept with over his time in this godforsaken restaurant. A single knocked chair, a single heavy footstep, and his presence would be given away. He was in no danger, but any failed attempt felt like a crushing defeat to him, and he had no shame to admit he was a sore loser.

He picked up the pace as he entered the hallway, bursting into a steady sprint as the distance between him and the still-open doors vanished rapidly, each footstep propelling him forward faster and faster. He made sure to run on the tips of his toes and lift his heels to reduce noise – a little trick Freddy had taught him a long time ago. He flitted past the window in the blink of an eye, nothing more than a purple whir to the human inside. The door was within reach now, all it would take was one lunge and it would all be over! This was it! It took three nights; but another human would soon be in his grasp, their warm, limp body held in his embrace as he carried them to the next stage of life.

"**DIE, HUMA**-_**OOMPH**_!" The robot rabbit's victory shriek was instantly silenced as his maw collided with the metal door. He clutched his face as he backed away not out of pain, but of shock. How had they reacted so quickly?!

He peeked through the window angrily, looking for the human that had bested him at the last moment. Resting in the office chair staring back at him with an infuriatingly smug smile sat a youthful man, younger than most of the men who came here. The wavy brown hair sitting on his head was slightly unkempt and poofed outwards like a roughed-up schoolboy, and while he wasn't dirty, he was dressed in a slack manner with loose fitting jeans and untucked shirt. As he glared back he rested deep into the chair and stretched lazily, in one hand holding the strange machine with which he watched them, and the other a can of soda.

He was leering at the animatronic in a mocking fashion, but Bonnie could see through his façade. Behind that fragile illusion of a brave, fearless hero was a scared, anxious man staring back at him with eyes widened with terror. Pathetic.

"Hah, you thought you could catch me, did you? Pfft, a baby could crawl down that hall faster than you!" The guard threw back their head and laughed uproariously, even pointing a mocking finger at the stunned robot standing outside his room. A conflagration of anger and shame surged through the rabbit's body, far more severe than anything he'd ever felt during his long imprisonment in this place. If his face had blood vessels, it would surely be the shade of scarlet by now. Not only did he outsmart him, he was _mocking_ him?! He was a ruthless killer, countless men had fallen at his feet, dragged to their deaths and this… this… spineless idiot had the audacity to mock him?! What the hell!

"**BASTAAAAAAAARD!"** He knew he shouldn't have, but he let his emotions seize control of his body, allowing himself to become a puppet bound by their command, pounding furiously against the window with all the might his metal limbs could muster. It was a pointless exercise and he knew it, but when blind rage seizes you like that, even pointless actions seem to have value if they let you express yourself. The human stumbled in their chair in fright at his outburst, before breaking into further laughter as they remembered he couldn't get through.

"Just go away already, you're not getting in here." The human made a rude shooing gesture towards Bonnie as he returned to his little device, ignoring any further outbursts from the incensed machine. He wanted to stay around and threaten the human some more despite knowing it would have no effect. For now he would retreat back down the hallway and wait for another chance to strike, and this time he wouldn't slip up. As he went his paws balled into fists so tight he feared he would break them.

This guard was different from the others, much, much different. This one didn't just fight back; it spat in their faces. Were they insane? Did they seek death? No… Bonnie had already seen madmen, and men who wished to destroy themselves, and they were nothing like this one. This one… it was like they were fighting to survive, whilst at the same time trying to get themselves killed. Perhaps they were just stupid, and very much so.

"You're going to die here, human. You're definitely, definitely going to die here." The rabbit's savage voice echoed down the hallway as he walked, each step heavy with the shame of another defeat.

But it didn't matter, none of it mattered, by now Freddy should have finished calculating his mode of attack, and tonight would be the night he made his move. And if there was one thing Bonnie knew with certainty about the world, it was that nobody, _nobody_ was prepared for Freddy.

* * *

**A/N: I like to propose a title change for this story. I'm aware that changing the title and blurb of a story is typically a bad idea, but the reason for doing so is I feel that the current title and blurb is a little too cliché and bland, and so some potential readers may skip over it. The proposed title is "Regret", as personal regrets is going to be one of the major themes throughout the story. **

**I've gone ahead and made a poll on my profile page, so please head there and vote for whether or not you want a new title. As a show of good faith, I promise to go with what the majority of you guys think even if I disagree, since I am writing this story for you guys, after all. This story isn't a story without it's wonderful readerbase.**

**I'll close the poll when I upload the next chapter and make the change then, so all 200ish of ya have plenty of time to make your opinion count. **


	10. Our Favourite Game

**Chapter 10**

**Our Favourite Game**

Mike chuckled to himself as he watched the rabbit romp back down the hallway in an angry fit. He had tricked it into thinking he was watching Chica, wherein reality Bonnie was his main focus. The way it had galloped down the hallway with a victorious glint in its eye could almost be considered cute, if it wasn't trying to kill him. But the most satisfying moment was when it had realised he had deceived it all along. Since it was a machine it had a very limited selection of faces it could pull, but even with its restrictions it had snarled at him with a face of boiling white-hot rage seething below the surface of its mask, clear as day. For a brief moment he had feared to would manage to get through to him, the way it had clawed at the window with its giant paws.

Bonnie had probably presumed that expressing rage would scare him, but truth be told it only made him fear it less. The fact that it was vulnerable to emotional outbursts melted the mysterious, calculating aura it had exhibited the night before, leaving something almost… human in nature behind.

It was just over an hour into his shift and things had progressed smoothly, further bolstering his confidence that he could handle it. As expected Bonnie had been first to attack, sparing no time in his race to get down the hallway. He must have considered himself clever to hide backstage and wait, but he had made the mistake of underestimating Mike's ability to predict what he was planning to do. Even if others had fallen prey to such simple tactics, he wouldn't be bested so easily.

Chica was a little more unpredictable. She too had begun to move about, but like last time she acted without purpose, waddling away into the toilets and staying there. Since she had gone into the female stalls he couldn't see what she was up to, but whatever it was it had keep her in there since she entered. What the hell was she up to?

**CRASH!**

An uproarious clamour erupted from somewhere in the building, accompanied by what sounded like the screeching of tables and chairs being dragged across the lino. Had he been a normal guard at a normal building he would have panicked at the prospect at what could possibly cause such a pandemonium of sound, but he knew exactly what had caused it and even before looking his giggling started up again.

"Jesus…" His voice trailed off into shocked quietness as a glorious image appeared before him on the monitor.

In the dining hall the source of the noise was blatantly displayed for all to see in an almost theatrical manner. The formerly pristine hall had been transformed into a den of chaos, as tables and chairs lay scattered and upturned all across the room. The table covers lay draped over them haphazardly like lazy ghosts, and crushed, broken party hats filled the room. It honestly looked like a bomb had gone off, minus the damages to infrastructure.

At the very epicentre of the mess lay the prone form of Foxy, lying face down on an upturned table with his arms splayed out crazily. Unlike the rest of his crumpled form his legs remained rigid, testifying to his inability to move them. The fox was struggling to push himself up, but the weight of a chair resting on him held him in place. Realising he was stuck in place, he began thrashing violently like a toddler throwing a tantrum, before slumping down in defeat.

"Ahahahaaahh! Ohohohoo, oh, fuck me." He was trying his best to withhold himself; but Mike's hysterical laughter must have been loud enough to reach the end of the hall, as the Fox's ears pricked up as scowled up at the camera. With the bare stump where his hook should have been he gestured threateningly, his jaw snapping viciously as he presumably swore.

To make matters worse, or funnier depending on how you looked at it, Bonnie came running into the hall to investigate the noise too. Initially confused by the mess the rabbit cautiously prodded through it, until he saw the form of Foxy staring back at him, eyes and teeth glinting in the dark. Seeing the other robot, Bonnie's eyes widened in fear as he began to back away, stumbling over a chair as he refused to remove Foxy from his line of sight. He had to strain his ears, but even from the office Mike could hear their tense conversation echoing down the hall.

"Hey, you! Get me out of here!" The fox roared threateningly at the rabbit, reaching out with his functioning hand for Bonnie to pull him up and out. But Bonnie had no intention of helping him, backing further and further away.

"N-No! You can stay there! I'll get in trouble if they think I caused this!" In a huge personality shift the formerly savage rabbit cried in a cowardly tone as he turned tail from the downed fox and sprinted away, leaping clear over a table and into the backstage, slamming the door behind him.

"You little shit! Come back here or I'll rip your head off! COME BACK HEEEERREEE!" He continued to screech at the rabbit longer after it had fled, launching a verbal assault of threats towards to closed door. Switching to the backstage, Mike could see Bonnie pacing listlessly back and forth within the confined room, a look of worry, maybe even fear, on his simple facial features. As Foxy continued to protest Bonnie would occasionally flinch and glance at the door, as though he feared Foxy would get to him. Surprisingly both Freddy and Chica had yet to move from where they currently were to help their 'friend'

Just what was up with Foxy that made the others afraid of him? As far as Mike was concerned they were all dangerous and creepy, and yet even the other animatronics treated Foxy with extra caution, even going so far as to abandon him when he needed help. Was he some kind of outcast? It seemed so unreasonable for them to turn on one another like that, and yet he had just seen Bonnie flee from him in cheer terror. It was unsettling for Mike to consider what could Foxy could have possibly done to put himself is such poor disposition to even his own kind.

Furthermore, what had Bonnie said about getting in trouble? Besides Foxy, who the hell could he possibly fear punishment from? It's not like the Fazbear employees were any danger to him, in fact chances are they were going to blame Mike for all the chaos caused in the hall… damn. He hadn't thought of that. And there was no way he could clean all that up before Tom showed up and pummelled his sorry ass into a pile of goop on the lino. He pondered on what would be a worser fate, being crammed into a animatronic suit, or scooped up off the lino and made into mystery pizza sauce.

_Screeeekk… screeeeeekk…_

Another horrid noise disturbed the peace, this time drawing closer. Like before it sounded like something was being dragged across the line; but this time it was slower, heavier, and precise. Hesitantly Mike leant past the door and peeked out into the hallway, hand resting on the appropriate button should he need to retreat back inside and cower in fear. Bonnie was still hiding and so too was Chica, Foxy was stuck, so was it Freddy?

"You… are… DEAD!"

Apparently Foxy wasn't so stuck. Using both arms to drag himself along, Foxy was pulling himself down the hallway with his limp legs sliding uselessly behind him. Upon sighting the human peeking back at him, he snarled that warning as his eyepatch flapped up and down madly. "Come here so I can tear you apart!" He thrashed his body side to side in an attempt to propel himself forward like some demented, furry torpedo, but even so he was inching along as at a snail's pace. By the time he had made it to the office and hoisted himself up to the window with a great deal of effort, falling back down several times, Mike had already closed the door and was coolly looking back at him, casually sipping from a sports drink.

"Well, that was a waste of effort, wasn't it?" Mike said in a fake, kindly voice. "Is your AI dumb enough to think I'd leave the door open for you?"

The fox was panting, shoulders heaving as it gasped for air despite its lack of need for oxygen. It was more likely that it was shaking with murderous rage than attempting to carry out a redundant bodily function, but with these supernatural creatures who knew.

"I…" The fox paused every few words as it spoke, delivering its limitless spite not through a loud voice or threats, but through the malevolent glare in its eye. "I've never seen such a fucking crazy, stupid asshole like you."

"Says the one who tried to murder me for no good reason." Mike replied curtly.

"Long after I'm done pulling you apart tendon by tendon, I'll be sure to curse your name every time I see my own hook for what you've done." Foxy continued, ignoring Mike's smart reply. It he wasn't slumped against the glass like a kid staring into a candy shop, he may have been intimidating, but as he was he just looked silly. Silly enough to warrant one of Mike's patented smug smirks.

"That's nice and all, but you're no threat to me. I've found cum-stained fursuits abandoned in dumpsters that were more hazardous than you." He paused to look down at Foxy's lower half. "And they had functioning legs, too."

He fully expected the fox to launch into another savage tantrum of window-banging and death threats, but to his surprise the animatronic gave a simple 'tch' of disgust before sliding down and disappearing from sight, shaking its wide, furry red head as it went. Mike sat down in the chair and returned to the tablet expecting for Foxy to give up and crawl back, but he had no such luck. The animatronic remained were it was, resting against the wall.

"It's a waste of time to stay there, you might as well crawl back to your shitty little cove." He called out through the door, eyes still transfixed on the image of Bonnie still cowering backstage within the monitor.

"No thanks, I'm staying here until dawn. You tamper with my ass, I drain your power and then kill you. How's that for karma?" The fox called out in return, this time copying Mike's smarmy attitude. Mike couldn't see it, but the animatronic had crossed it's arms stubbornly, shifting its disabled legs into a more comfortable position.

"You can't do that! That's cheating!" Mike protested angrily, reaching and kicking the metal door with one foot in an attempt to spook the fox off. All it did was injure his own foot.

"Oh? I didn't realise there were rules to murdering people." He let out a little chuckle, which wound its way up into a full-bodied cackle. " Ahahaha, see? You aren't the only person who can be a prick." He cooed contemptuously.

This wasn't good, and for the first time that night a sense of danger awoke in Mike's gut. Dawn was just over an hour away and the power was still at 40%, but with one of the doors permanently shut he wasn't sure if the power would last, made worse if one of the other animatronics decided to approach him from the east hall. He still had the baton and Foxy was still at a disadvantage with his crippled legs, but Mike never was a fighting person and he doubted he could hold off a tireless machine for long. All it would take to down him would be a single bite from those sharp fangs…

Not to mention the others would undoubtedly charge him once he had no means to defend himself, and they would all know when the power went out. Checking back on the dining hall, he could see that several tables and chairs blocked the path to the entrance like a makeshift barricade, and there was no way he could clamber over all of them before being caught. He had teased Bonnie about being slow earlier, but truthfully he could sprint at the same pace as a grown man, and that scared him.

He would never admit it, but it seemed to Mike that sabotaging Foxy, insulting the animatronics and his other shenanigans were coming back to bite him in the ass, intentionally or unintentionally. That previous sense of safety was swiftly eroding away as the dangers presented themselves to him one by one, like flesh-eating termites crawling out of the woodwork to devour him. He took in a deep, unsteady breath as he tried to focus on the situation. To his left the fox had gone silent, but he could still hear the occasional grind of metal as it shifted position, easer to crawl in and gnaw on his bones. If really did plan on stuffing him into a suit, he might have to take his own life before they had the chance…

"Hello!"

A female voice greeted him in a cheerful, youthful tone that clashed with the macabre surroundings. Startled by the sudden sound Mike turned to the right were it came from, to find Chica looking at him through the opposite window.

Rather than run through the door she stood were she was, watching him intently with sparkle in her eye. Not giving her another chance to claim his life Mike slammed his fist into the door button, letting out an exasperated sigh of relief that he has somehow avoided death again. How did she sneak up on him like that? Sure, he had been distracted by Foxy and Bonnie, but he hadn't seen her sneak out of the toilets…

"Hello." She said again happily, apparently not noticing the door at all.

"Fuck you." Mike snapped back in reply. The immediate danger of the situation had put him out of the mood to act cheekily and now he just wanted to be left alone. Insulting them only made things harder.

"What's your name?" Chica asked, tilting her head to the side. From a distance she looked creepy, but up close where he could see the flaws in her design and general artificial atmosphere, she was terrifying. It might have been that her eyes were far too small for the eye sockets, or that he could see a second set of sharp teeth glinting at him from within her beak, or maybe her giant hands that didn't match the rest of her body, but whatever it was, it was unsettling.

"Fuck you." Mike repeated, not caring if he made her angry. Like it mattered, he was surrounded regardless of what happened. It would take a miracle for him to escape out of this without so much as a missing limb.

"You have a very naughty potty mouth, mister. Not even the mean fox says as many bad words as you." Chica spoke in an upset tone, as though she were uncomfortable by Mike's adult language. Was this killer robot seriously trying to claim higher moral ground than him?

"Shut the fuck up Chica." Foxy's annoyed voice came from the other door. Looks like he didn't want to have Chica around either, for whatever reason.

"Well, when you have a robot duck trying to kill you, you aren't going to respond politely, are you?" Mike said. At this, Chica crossed her arms and shook her head impatiently.

"I'm not a robot or a duck, I'm a chicken! Stop saying that I'm not! And don't you say mean things to me too, Foxy!" She complained in a wheedling voice.

"Not this again…" Foxy grumbled.

"What…? You're a robot that looks like chicken. Look, I can even see the metal frame!" He pointed at the gap in her midriff where her spine was clearly visible, causing her to look at where he was pointing. "Have you even seen a chicken before?" He continued. She looked back up at him and shrugged dismissively as though he were a lunatic.

"All chickens have that. I'm a normal chicken girl! And no, I haven't seen any other chickens, but that's because Freddy says they all have to hide from the humans just like me. They're meanies!" She stomped her voice, the strength of the metal causing the widow to ripple from the force.

"Well, if you've never seen another chicken, how do you know what a normal one looks like?" Mike folded his arms and stared triumphantly at the now quiet robot, watching as she struggled to counter his reasoning.

"I know because I'm a chicken! I'm a cute chicken!" She insisted, completely disregarding what Mike had to say. It was like arguing with a child, no matter what he threw at her it would either go over her head or she would deny it completely. He had hoped that since she was the only one who hadn't presented herself as a threat, maybe he could have reasoned with her, but with her being as stubborn as she was there was no point in even trying. He didn't know how much mental gymnastics that thing had to do to delude itself into thinking it was a real animal

"Whatever, just go away already." He waved her off irritably, already annoyed with her. At this rate he would rather be scared of Foxy or Bonnie than have to put up with this childish idiot any longer. She wasn't menacing at all!

"No, I want to come in and play! Let me in please!" Chica pleaded, stomping her foot impatiently for a second time.

"And just what game do you want to play?" Mike asked curiously.

"The Hunting Game!" Chica's eyes lit up as she spoke, like a child reminiscing about Christmas. "It's our favourite game! It's sorta the only game we're allowed to play…"

Mike thought carefully about what to say. If he played it right, he could possibly glean some useful information from this too-eager animatronic about their tactics or intentions. "How do you play this game?" He asked again.

"No! Don't do that!" Foxy sat up again and peered through the window, yelling angrily at Chica and doing his best to intimidate her with those piercing eyes of his. Snubbing the fox completely, the chicken nodded keenly to Mike, oblivious to his hidden intentions. In the background Foxy continued to noisily protest, becoming aggravated when he realised he was being ignored entirely.

"Okies dokies! Weeeell, at night time when everybody has gone home and the cameras go to sleep, we have to try and catch the human that comes in, so we all come here and try to getcha. But Freddy says it's not fun if we all just stand outside the doors, so we have to take turns to try and catch ya. When we catch the human we have to take them backstage and put them in a suit just like us, Freddy called it… uh… Rebir? Rebba?" Chica trailed off, a serious look coming across her face as she tried to remember whatever she was talking about.

"Oh well, I forgot." She gave a careless shrug. "Anyway, we break the human by doing that, and then in the morning that horrible, horrible man comes in and cleans up the mess. I don't like him at all, you saw him push me over!" A glint of anger came into her voice. "One day I'd like to break him…" Her eyes narrowed and her hands clenched into fists, leaving nothing to the imagination over what she was thinking about.

"You're doing a very good job of not getting broken, though." She shifted her attention back to the guard watching her nervously. "I like it when they don't get broken so quickly, although Freddy always loses his patience and breaks them if they stay around for too long…." She let out a sad sigh, internally lamenting over all the humans Freddy had gotten to before her. "So, can I come in? I promise to break your head quickly so it doesn't go everywhere like last time." She spoke as though the last offer was some amazing, once in a lifetime deal that he couldn't refuse.

"Hell no, I'm not getting 'broken' tonight, tomorrow night, or ever. You're never getting in here." Mike spoke in a firm, assertive tone, hoping it would be effective in intimidating her. Instead she let out an exasperated sigh, as though he were the one being troublesome.

"That's okay. I'll just have to try harder to catch you before someone else does. I hate it when Bonnie takes them from me, I hate i-" Chica's sentence was cut short as she suddenly cowered back in fear after spotting something from down the hallway. She nodded and began conversing with someone hidden in the darkness in a hushed tone, too quiet for Mike to understand, before giving him a single glace as she scampered away and out of sight. What the hell had just happened? And more importantly, who could possibly spook Chica enough to make her run away like that? She seemed to have no respect for Bonnie and Foxy was still at the other door.

Then the only one left was…

"I'm surprised to see you're still alive. You should congratulate yourself." A voice far stronger and manlier than any of the other animatronics called out to him casually from the dark where Chica had formally stood. Mike Schmidt inhaled sharply and his jaw became locked in fear as Freddy Fazbear stepped forward and up to the window, a neutral, almost amiable look on his ursine features. Behind him, Mike could hear Foxy also fall silent as he slunk back and away from the office.

"Don't think I can't see you, Foxy. What are you still doing here?" The star of the restaurant turned his attention to the fox in the other hall, who had swiftly ducked back under the window in an attempt to hide from the bear. Upon being caught, he let out an aggravated snarl.

"He took my own hook and put it in my ass, and now I can't walk. He put me at a disadvantage and now I'm evening the playing field. Wouldn't you agree that is fair, Freddy?" Up until now Foxy had treated everyone like crap. Mike, Bonnie Chica, all of them. But to Freddy he spoke in a polite if not begrudging manner, letting the anger simmer under a brusque tone. On one side Mike absolutely loved to see Foxy subjugated even further, but at the same time he was unnerved by the fact that even Foxy, the only animatronic Mike had considered a genuine threat thus far, was daunted by Freddy. If that was the authority Freddy wielded, then Mike's earlier suspicions of him being the true threat was becoming an unfortunate reality.

"While it is unfortunate that the human tampered with you in such a…" He briefly gave an abstruse look to the human as he stood there helplessly. "…uncouth manner, it has been a long established rule of the hunt to give the prey a fair opportunity to survive. You are to return to Pirate Cove and remain there until tomorrow night. Go." Freddy spoke in the manner of a gentlemen, with eloquent use of the English language and a certain charismatic charm that could dominate weaker minds, but behind that lay something darker, something sinister.

Foxy opened his mouth to argue his case, but a silent, cutting stare from Freddy stopped him before he had the opportunity. Quietly he lowered himself to the ground in defeat and crawled away, the screeching sound of his dragging feet growing fainter as he went. "_Wankers… both of you." _ Foxy muttered inaudibly to himself in anger and self-pity. From the other hall Freddy intently watched him depart, before addressing the distraught guard once more.

"As I said, you should congratulate yourself for surviving thus far. There are few men of will strong enough and courage fierce enough to remain in this place and survive. However, that ends here." Freddy turned and paced away from the window as though in deep thought, before turning back almost immediately. Mike desperately wanted to say something, to yell at this animatronic like he had done with the others, but his voice box refused to work, kept silent by the terrifying presence of Freddy.

"I usually refrain from talking to the men led here to die, as it does very little. You've proven that you're different from the others, so I'm making an exception for you. Your kind is rare and somewhat… troublesome." Freddy closed his eyes, eyebrows caving downwards in frustration, as though he were recollecting some unpleasant memory. "You've already caused quite a mess in the dining area, and whilst I care little for that uncooperative fox, I will not stand having my associates being damaged in any way."

The bear looked the mute human directly in the eye, those striking blue eyes burning invisible lasers into his mind. "So long as you remain here, you are going to die. One way or another, one of us will eventually get to you, that I can wholeheartedly reassure you upon. When you are caught, you will find that what we have in store for you will be most painful, far more agonizing than anything you would have experienced in your short life. So, I'm going to offer you a proposition."

The guard stood warily, a mixture of curiosity and fear shooting its way through his neural network.

"Let me in right now, and I will snap your neck in an instant. It will be painless, efficient and non-messy, a far better alternative to anything you will otherwise endure. Your life is already over, human, so surrendering it to me now will save you from further suffering in the future. Do you agree to this?" Freddy finished his articulate speech an insane offer, raising one eyebrow prospectively. The chances of the human cooperating were low, Freddy knew that, but he did not anticipate the human's next actions.

With a single swipe of his hand Mike snatched the baton up off the table and slammed it into the window full force, causing the bear to leap back with surprising speed, eyes coldly calculating this unexpected reaction. Teeth clenched and canines bared, it was hard to speak in such a volatile state, but the guard had found his voice again and he would let this bear know what he thought as a new wave of energy surged through him.

"Just what the hell is this? Do you really expect me to just give up and die? No fucking way. Everything that you've put me through has only made me more determined to stay here and keep you and your idiot friends in line, Fazbear. Tonight, tomorrow night, and every night until this shithole of a restaurant closes I'm going to return and prove to you just how powerful human willpower is. Get used to seeing my face bear, you're going to be seeing it for the next five weeks." Despite the energy surging through him Mike kept his voice cool and low. Aggression would do nothing to help him, but returning Freddy's polite but cold attitude would. He was already aware that acting brave had only made things worse, but he couldn't falter now.

"Admirable, but ultimately foolish. Humans truly are creatures blinded by their own emotions and morals." The bear shook its head almost sympathetically, as though it pitied the human before it. "Do you even understand the weight of your claims, human? In the 40 years we have remained in this place, there have been but three men to survive longer than a week. And of those three determined, powerful men that even I respected, not a single one survived longer than the five weeks you attest you can live for. You eagerly rush to your own death."

Mike didn't budge an inch, neither physically nor mentally. Staying right where he was he countered Freddy's threat with his own bold retort. "I said it to Foxy and I'll say it to you. You do not scare me!"

"Hmph." The bear gave a smug condescending chuckle, completely unfazed by the human's boldness. "Small words, from a small mortal trying to attack what it doesn't understand. I'll put an end to you."

_DING-DONG-DING_

The morning chime rung throughout the building, shattering the tension and alerting both human and machine to the impending end of the shift. With a sigh the bear stood back, arms falling slack at its sides as it conceded defeat for the time being.

"I gave you one chance to resolve this amiably, and you blew it. Day is upon us and I must retreat for now, but I'll be waiting to hunt you down should you ever come here again. At that time I shan't show you the slightest bit of mercy, and you will know why everyone fear's to mention my name."

With that Freddy vanished down the hallway, leaving the human all alone in the office with his distraught thoughts as sunlight began to gradually filter into the building.

"I'll be waiting."

* * *

**A/N: First of all, I'd like to thank everyone who voted in the poll thus far. It's nice to see so many people eager to get involved! However, the poll is still currently tied as both sides struggle to decide what happens with the title, so I'm leaving it up for another chapter until a decisive side comes through. If you haven't already voted, please do so.**

**Whew! You guys surprise me at every turn. I had uploaded last chapter under the assumption that it would be boring, but the response was overwhelmingly pleased, with people often remarking how engaged they were with the plot. If that was the case last chapter, then hopefully this chapter was even more exciting. I worry that the narrative progresses at a pace far too slow, but there hasn't been a single bit of criticism up until now. I'm glad to see you guys like it so much! Seeing such an excited response was what really made me sit down and push out this chapter earlier than anticipated.**


	11. Broken Predecessor

**Chapter 11**

**Broken Predecessor **

It was a nice thing, sunrise.

In his younger years Mike despised it. Sunrise meant leaving the warm comfort of slumber and entering the harsh world of reality. Sunrise meant working and studying and slogging through the day for no apparent reason other than to just get by. It was something he feared on a fundamental level every night when he fell asleep, like some looming, radiant entity reaching for him between the folds on his curtains.

Now it was the opposite. Sunrise meant safety, salvation; it meant he was free to leave the death-trap known as Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria and enjoy the privilege of living another day and the few, precious hours it carried. There was nothing more reassuring than those first beaming rays of light tenderly peeking their way into the building, scaring off the animatronic abominations until midnight's call woke them up again.

Within that morning light the disaster in the dining hall looked even more impressive. The scattered collection of furniture readily resembled one of those pretentious modern art projects one would see in a gallery. "Foxy's literal butthurt" would be a fitting title, Mike thought to himself. Even more impressive was the fact that Foxy had been strong enough just to smash all those heavy tables out of his way like they were nothing. If that's what he was capable of with solid objects, Mike shuddered to consider what he could do with a frail, spindly human body. He already knew well enough how sharp that hook was.

Hesitantly he skirted around the edge of the cluttered, desperately mulling over his available options to deal with the situation. Assuming he came to work on time, there was no way Mike could possibly clean this all up before Tom showed up. My god, Mike thought to himself, if something as mundane as pizza in Chica's mouth was enough to make him send her flying, what unholy, cataclysmic wrath would he unleash upon Mike for this?!

Spurned by horrible images of an untimely demise at the hands of the monolithic monster of a man, Mike seized a table with both hands and with a grunt flipped it upright. Great. That was one out of… twenty four? Shit. Hurriedly he dashed about the room, fixing tables and chairs, draping tablecloths into the right place and setting the party hats in position. His handiwork still left the room messy for sure, but if anyone noticed they would blame Glen, not him. He felt guilty shifting the blame onto his eager young workmate, but if he kept it up he could get out of this scot-free!

"What in the fuck is this?"

Mike froze midstep like a deer struck by a tranquilizer at the sound of that deep voice. Apprehensively, jerkily, he looked upwards at the large figure of Tom standing in the doorway, a dark shadow against the bright sunlight shining through the doors. He came in slowly, almost tepidly, scanning the room with widened, shocked eyes, mouth agape but silent. If Mike had come to understand Tom in the slightest, then he would be correct to assume Tom would launch into a savage rampage of rage directly wholly at him, and not even the animatronics could come close to making the mess he would make of Mike. Even in his fear Mike remained ready to sprint into the office and shut the doors behind him should Tom even so much as blinked at him.

But he didn't fly into a rage. In fact, this was the calmest Mike had ever seen the stronger man. There was a not a single ember of anger burning in his eyes, but rather a serene glow of reticence, eyebrows furrowed in wonder at the state of the restaurant he had just entered. Mike would have preferred him to become angry; this unprecedented level of composure was starting to unnerve him.

Seeing the guard poised still amongst it all, Tom brushed past the disordered furniture until he was inches away from his face, heavy breaths reeking of alcohol wafting their way onto Mike's flinching face. Attention locked on him, Tom turned his attention to the cowering man and asked him a question in a tone more curious than it was accusing.

"Did… you do this?"

Mike shook his head vigorously until he felt dizzy, feelings of uncomfortableness squirming their way through him as he thought of a way to get out of this situation. What could he say to explain it? He could try and explain, but the chances of Tom believing him were slim, as he would expect from anyone. It looked like there was no way out of this except to accept his early morning pummelling, until Mike saw the glint of metal in the distance.

"N-No… He did…" With a quavering finger Mike pointed over at Pirate Cove, directing his interrogator's attention over there. Peeking out from under the curtain lay the lower half of Foxy's body resting on the floor, exposed metal legs still locked in place and jutting out awkwardly. From the look of it, it seems as through Foxy didn't make it back to the safety of his domain before the six o'clock threshold put him out of action.

Suddenly disinterested in the guard, Tom stepped away and strode with purpose over towards the decommissioned sideshow, ripping the curtains open with one effortless swipe. No longer an immediate target of Tom's potential wrath Mike chased after him, his curious desire to see the outcome pulling him forth. With head twisted sideways, looking up and jaw wide open, Foxy still held that same angry expression that he did last night. In the daylight he looked even more pathetic and helpless than he did before, so much so Mike would have almost felt sorry for him, if he weren't a murderous psycho.

"It's always you, isn't it? Always the stupid fox causing trouble." Tom grumbled under his breath. He reached down and grabbed the fox in an attempt to hoist him back up on his feet, but with his legs jammed the fox refused to budge, eliciting a confused response from the employee. Crouching down he began examining the limp form of the dishevelled vulpine animatronic in an attempt to find the reason for his inability to move, determined eyes running up and down its form. At first it looked like he was about to give up, until the saw something within the robot's hip.

"What's this?"

"_Guhahh!"_

Reaching into that gap with his large paw of a hand, Tom fiddled about as a rattling metal noise echoed from within, when with one forceful tug he ripped the meddlesome hook right out of the Fox's ass and ogled at in in astonishment, as though he couldn't believe what he had just retrieved from the now able-bodied machine. Maybe Tom hadn't heard it, or maybe he had just ignored it purposefully, but as he had yanked it out a barely-audible gasp of pain escaped out of Foxy's mouth, forcing Mike to stifle a laugh. It just wasn't that fox's day.

"Did you…?" Looking up at him with that same look of surreal bewilderment Tom went to ask the guard his part in this crime, before trailing off. With a hesitant nod Mike confirmed his involvement, anxious as to whether his discovery would aid or hinder him. Tom clearly despised these things maybe even moreso than him, so it was within reason that Tom would support this retaliatory action against the fox, but after his decidedly calm reaction to this morning's events so far it was hard to predict Tom's next move.

"Y-yeah. I did it as a joke, really…" Mike paused to look over his shoulder at the mess behind him before turning back. "Looks like he didn't find it as funny as I did."

Tom shook his head slowly in disbelief as he stood back up, a low grumbling under his breath winding itself up into a full bellied laugh as he held his sides. He gave Mike a mirthful nod of understanding, as though through this evidence alone he had known exactly what Mike had put Foxy through. It was definitely the happiest Mike had _ever _seen this usually sour man.

"Damn, I've never seen anyone do that before. You put it in its place, I'll bet." He said in a tone wavering with approval. But that short lived face of amusement quickly faded away as he returned to his more serious self. Turning around and exiting the abandoned sideshow, he indicated Mike to follow him. "Now hurry up and help me clean this place up."

Mike struggled to keep up with the surprising speed and strength of the man as he strode from table to table, setting them right. He didn't even seem to notice the weight of the furniture as he hoisted it about like cardboard; it was almost as through cleaning this sort of thing up swiftly was a daily routine for him. No words were exchanged between the two as they worked in silence, hurriedly trying to set the restaurant right as to not arouse suspicion when others started turning up. In the time it had taken Mike to clear a scare few, Tom had corrected the whole room, standing back with a self-satisfied nod. You wouldn't have thought a psychotic robot had charged through here mere hours ago, and that's exactly what Tom wanted.

"Wow…" Mike said to himself, examining the now tidy room.

"Look. I don't like you, and you don't like me. That's already obvious. " Tom's burly voice boomed at him in a sudden shift in tone as his features set tight. He looked straight at Mike with those unmoving, stark blue eyes. "Tampering with the animatronics is cause for instant dismissal, and I'm supposed to report you to Henry immediately." He continued, reaching down to pick up a stray party hat, putting it in line with its brethren on the table beside them. For someone so big and violent, he sure was tidy.

"But while that is true, this place and everyone in it needs you. So for just this one time, I'm going to feign ignorance. Don't let me catch you messing with them ever again." His voice held a cautionary tone, warning him of the consequences not through words, but the way he delivered them.

"W-What? Needs me?" Mike asked timidly, once again off-put by Tom's lack of anger. He should have been relieved that Tom, for whatever abstract reason, had decided to help him, but he was more intrigued by his other claim.

Ignoring him Tom pushed past him and walked off, unwilling to clarify what he meant. But after several metres he paused, glancing over his shoulder to say one last thing, before entering the backstage.

"Don't trust your eyes and ears."

With that cryptic message he left Mike standing alone with his confused thoughts.

...

Pushing his way outside, Mike appreciated the warmth of the sun's rays on his skin. It looked like today was going to be an exceptionally pleasant day. With the day slowly grinding its way into action, with cars and people going past on their way to work, birds singing in the barren branches of the trees and animals dashing off to start their day, the bustle of the early day made last night feel like a distant, fleeting dream. It was definitely the most cheerful day since he'd started this wretched job.

Despite that Mike wasn't feeling so perky himself. All he had done was sit on his ass for 6 hours, but somehow he felt drained. It was the building itself, he was certain, leeching away at him whilst he sat there and rot. That alongside his irregular sleeping pattern may be too much to handle at this rate.

Turning right down the path to walk home, Mike jumped with fright as a loud bang erupted from the alleyway beside him as he passed it. Peeking curiously, he was met by the sight of a homeless man rummaging through the dumpster, their clothes almost as tattered and dirty as the scraps of rubbish they hastily forced into a plastic bag. Satisfied with their pull, they retreated further into the alley and out of sight. Mike was surprised to see one, he had heard on the radio just a month back that homelessness had been steadily decreasing over the last few years.

Even after seeing such a curious sight Mike would have gone home, if not for the fact that they were holding a broken Freddy Fazbear head in their hand. Mike looked wearily from the alleyway, to the street, and back. He just wanted to go home and sleep already, but he felt pulled by some forced to investigate this. It was definitely suspicious that he had that animatronic part. Nobody had come in during the last few nights, and he hardly doubted the day staff would let a homeless man just take a part like that. So, with an agonized groan he guardedly snuck down the alley after them.

It was probably a bad idea to chase after mysterious homeless men in confined alleyways, but after a night of fighting demented robots intent on slaughtering him Mike feared nothing else. He came past the dumpsters and turned around another corner, intent of finding and interrogating the vagrant. But to his surprise he came to a dead-end, with the homeless man nowhere in sight.

"Huh? Where did he-_**AARGH!"**_ Mike's head exploded into pain as a solid object slammed into the back of his head, sending him flying forth into the brick wall and collapsing in a writhing heap on the dirty pavement. Vision blurry and head wracked with pain, Mike raised his hands desperately to protect himself against his assailant; a vague silhouette appeared before him against the backdrop of the sky. As his vision returned to clarity, he could see the homeless man standing before him, one hand trembling and clutching to the Freddy head, and within the other glinted the sharp edge of a knife. They glared down on him with rage, yellow teeth bared at him.

"Chasing me will be the last mistake you make! Gotcha now!" Despite his filthy, unkempt appearance it was evident he was middle aged, and yet his panicked voice was hoarse, like an aged man with a lifetime smoking habit, and with faded eyes full of fear. He held his blade close to Mike's face, hand shaking, ready to cut him apart at the slightest suggestion.

"Woah woah woah STOP! I'm not here to hurt you!" Mike pleaded desperately, backing into the wall as far as he could, holding out his arms pleadingly. The bum glared at him suspiciously and took a step back, allowing the blade to rest at his side, but still holding tightly onto it.

"Whaddya want with me? Diddernt yer ma tell ya not to talk to strangers, boy?" He barked out. Mike looked past him for an escape route, but it didn't look like he could get out of this easily. If this suspicious man was willing to randomly assault someone then it was possible they had no problem stabbing them to death in an alley with no witnesses. He sorely regretted not following his instincts earlier.

"The Freddy head! I just wanted to know why you have it." He pointed frantically at the animatronic part, directing his attention away from him. The downtrodden man looked from the head to him, and back again, his eyes begging for him to elaborate. "I'm the security guard for Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, I'm not here to take it back or anything, I just wanted to know why you had it, is all." Mike continued to reason. Upon hearing this, the man's eyes widened in surprise.

"You… work there?" He uttered, that gravelly voice now hushed in shock, before he shook his head dismally. "It just keeps going on and on and on. It'll never end like this…"

"W-What do you mean? Did… Did you used to work at Fazbear's?" Mike asked, slowly, gently, as to not arouse unwanted attention, he scrambled back onto his feet and stood on level with his attacker. His head was still pounding with pain and so was his wound, and he knew there was no point in calling the police. By the time he got home or flagged down a car this guy would probably be long gone.

"Four years ago… Four. No, two. It was two years ago I sat in that prison and watched them, hid from them. Each and every night." He looked back up at Mike. "Now it's your turn, innit?" He looked forlorn now, dejected, as though some tragedy had dawned upon him.

"I work as the night guard, yes. What happened to you? Did you get fired? Wait, do you know anything about those machines?!" Mike assaulted him with a volley of questions as he realised a former guard was standing before him, his current pain and situation temporarily pushed to the back of his mind. Finally, someone who understood what it was like, someone who could answer all his questions! Overwhelmed by his sudden eagerness, the man waved him away, taking a step back. He stared down at the pavement, as if mulling over something important.

"Too much… It was too much! On the third night, I couldn't take it anymore, so I waited until dawn, and ran. Didn't look back. Didn't say goodbye to my family. I just ran and ran and ran and RAN!" Suddenly, he let out a cry of pain and clutched his head, as through some terrible ailment has struck him. Even in his distressed state he continued to talk, growing more and more frantic; words running together until they were barely comprehensible.

"I went as far as my legs could take me, all the way to Utah, got a new job, settled down, everything seemed fine. Happy happy sunshine and flowers. But I didn't realise that _they_ had come with me!" At that last sentence his voiced quivered in fear, like one would if a ghost was standing right behind him.

"Who? Who came?! Tom?" Mike reached out, desperately trying to rationalise with the now sobbing man. In under a minute they had gone from a fierce warrior to a cowering, snivelling whelp, clutching their head and drawing in heavy, tiring gasps of air.

"The other one, THE OTHER ONE! I thought I got away, but he wouldn't let me. He's there, always there, on the TV, on the radio, in the newspaper, in the mirror, in your dreams, and even when I put my hands over my ears, close my eyes and scream and scream and scream and SCREAM he's there in my thoughts, mocking me, taunting me, _laughing _at me!" He began beating his own head savagely with his own fists until blood poured from his nose, shaking and groaning in agony. "He told me! He told me if I came here, back to Fazbear's, I could put an end to it. So I came back! Here in the jaws of death where it's nice and warm!"

Mike was seriously worried now. He had no idea what the hell this man was on about and he was becoming more volatile each second. That knife was still held firm in their hand, just one wrong move, one wrong word and he could slit Mike's throat open.

"I don't understand!" Mike protested. "If you escaped, then you should have just stayed away! Gone and seen a psychiatrist!" At his words the man simply threw his head back and laughing manically up to the sky, when suddenly in an instant he slammed Mike into the brick wall and held him there with surprising strength, that of an animal, knife held threateningly close to Mike's throat.

"AHAAHHHAAAHH! You just don't get it, do ya boy? There _is no _escaping Freddy Fazbear's! There's something else in there, other than them robots, and the moment you go through those doors it senses you, latches on to you, and it'll never let go until the day you die. There's nothing you can do, nowhere you can run, it'll relentlessly pursue you until you kill someone else or yourself. It _hungers _for suffering, and those robots are just its puppets, dancing on their strings for its own amusement." He leant in close, the stifling stench of his breath causing Mike to gag, eyes watering. "You might think you have a chance of surviving, but you were dead from the moment you walked through those front doors."

He stood back, blade still held high, a fractured smile on his demented face. Taking this brief opportunity Mike shoved him with all his might, fleeing and not bothering to look back as the man stumbled over the Freddy head in their possession and fell to the ground. Dashing round the corner he slammed into the dumpster, pushing off of it and sprinting down the alleyway, down the street and all the way home, he wailing, maniacal voice of the former guard following him all the way.

"You and I are dead men walking! Let's see which one of us keels over first!"

Even when he made it home, burst through the door and crumpled onto his bed, those chilling, vague words rattled into his head as he slipped into slumber from sheer exhaustion induced by the sudden fight. He didn't even feel the pillow hit his face.

…

He had been having this same dream for quite some time now; it was the one where he and his parents were at the museum when he was just a little boy. He had never liked the museum; it was far too boring and musty for a lad like him. But it was one of the happiest memories he had, back when dad was still around, back when money wasn't a concern. Mum and dad were looking at the insect exhibit, he remembered fondly on how dad had spooked mum by showing her the spiders. But being the adventurous boy he was, he had run off to see the dinosaurs. How big and cool they were!

He skipped happily across the building, leaving his parents behind. There had been no need for them to worry, if anything happened he could go to the security guards for help.

Only… The museum hadn't had guards, had it?

He came round the corner and ran through the archway, very familiar with the museum's layout. But rather than enter the dinosaur exhibit like he should have, he came into a bleak, dark hallway.

_What?_

He turned around to go back, only to find the path behind him had disappeared, replaced by a solid concrete wall.

_Mum? Dad?_

With nowhere else to go, young Mike walked forward, looking at this new feature within this familiar dream. After all the years he'd been having this dream, it had never changed, and yet this place felt familiar…

_N-No…_

As he walked the carpet morphed into black and white tiles, crude posters drawn by children manifested on the walls. Familiar, star-spangled purple curtains hung from the wall every few steps…

_No! Not again!_

Mum and Dad were gone. The museum was gone. His happy, cherished dream was gone. Little Mikey was in an endless corridor, walking forward for eternity.

_Help… Wake up… Some…one…_

_Clack-clack-clack-clack_

Hearing the sound of those metal footsteps Mike began to sprint, but he knew it was too late.

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**A/N: Sorry for the late chapter. I had a Linguistics essay to complete, and we all know scholarly articles aren't easy to write.**

**As for the poll, the majority have spoken and the title will remain as it is. Originally it was in favour of changing the title, but after my second request for people to vote it made a complete turnaround, so well done to everyone who voted!**

**This story has been influenced, or has yet to be influenced, by several various forms of media, some of which may surprise you. But there is one specific media that this story is heavily based on, far more than the others. Well, that's what I intend, anyway. I'm not going to say anything until later, but if you could compare this story to any other movie/game/anime/whatever horror title, what would it be? Let's see how many clever detectives are readers of this story!**


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